






































<\V <-p- 

,vv </►. 


w/ \KT Ca* O <\V </* 

■^, O 'V S ^VJ -* a X v^f, „ --V, v™ . .j, AV «/> 

^ * «v - + **mSr* ^ V. v» 

°* x a° o n c ■ <■ \A O ■ 

- ^ jf 

l> 


y 

V 

v * v 1 * * ^o CSV 

4 . ^jT? 7^__ ** X> (\ u * 

*0 0 * ; 

^ ^ ", 

6 o>‘ *. 


^ v« 



•3 * 3 > *■ * „ , 

• N ** * ° A "> ‘ 0 ^ S S 

vV ^ ^ v 

^ ** : JPlI : % ^ 

*> O y 


* 0 N 0 - \ 

> V *■ 

'm,; 

A\«c?W// >7 

iv\^tLK/X/ 7 

—. XV^, -X 7 '^ I 1 i -_• O <\V t/> -fy m&m CD ^ - 

J? ^ ^ ^ °,w, ,v>% 

¥r /sbu o 0 *^ 5 $*. 

>x -V « _ ->xl 



" ^ A x ' 

; ^ k ; 

* . 0 o * 


X 0 o x. 

*rrr-'\° o c o , 

/,'X'Xc ° 

* - n U. , *■ 

</> <w *■ 

</> ^v 




f x-*!W* / ^ 

v« l,, « X °"\i (} .«t, v/'..'' A' 






*> v 

r> * 

.A 

o. 

> <A 1 

8 * *o 

V 

* ^ 7 / 

* 



■i * * s' .A , .„ 

v* * 




o o 


*v- * oV ^ X <-> 1 

* -vG^ <* ~ s ^ A O y 0 . * 

,.CT t 0 ~ ' A S . ' " » -^b. ’ 

c **.*sw* b, L / * ., « 

o o' 

* ^ a v * 

1 t/> \V 



*' **'\ 4 > A ..‘ 1 ■« 





















































BEAUTY’S PERIL 

OR... 



The Girl from flacoupin 


By H. E. SCOTT 


M 




u '• Sjjj 


The Pastime Series —Monthly. $3. CO per annum. No. 128, June, 1891. 
Entered at Chicago Postoffice as second-class matter. 


Chicago: LAIRD & LEE, Publishers 


















\ 


f 



































Frontispiece 


Beauty’s Peril 






























































































































BEAUTY’S PERIL 


OR 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


A NOVEL 


BY 


A S' 

H, E. SCOTT 

\\ 


Author ot “ The Squire’s Black Sheep,” “ The White Queen,” 
“Chanson,” Etc. 



CHICAGO 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 

I 



ft** 


5 “ 


Entered according to Act of Congress in the year eighteen 
hundred and ninety-five by 

WILLIAM H. LEE, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER p AG * 

I. Trouble in the Home. 7 

II. Aunt Jane to the Rescue. 23 

III. A Corner in Wheat. 36 

IV. The Four o’clock Freight. 47 

V. “Dead or Alive He Needs Us”... . 55 

VI. Eben and Jane Visit Chicago. 62 

VII. The Man from Macoupin. 75 

VIII. “You’ve Did Us Proud”. 89 

IX. Pearl in a Department Store. 102 

X. “Prudes don’t Succeed as Clerks”... 113 

XI. Colony Hall. 129 

XII. “Alone with Two Mysteries to Solve” 141 

XIII. Unwelcome Attentions. 153- 

XIV. A Startled Household. 159 

XV. “A Mother Can Never Forget”. 170 

XVI. The Son of the Senior Member. 177 

XVII. “Look out for Women and Preachers” 188 
















9 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAUE 

XVIII. The Night of December Twenty-Fifth. 196 

XIX. A Mother’s Ring . 208 

XX. Poverty Flats. 218 

XXI. The Angels of the Attic. 232 

XXII. The New Section Boss. 246 

XXIII. A Couple of Tenderfeet. 253 

XXIV. Wild Cat Gulch. 260 

XXV. The Salted Claim. 272 

XXVI. The Mortgage Foreclosed. 284 

XXVII. A Well Laid Plot . 292 

XXVIII. A Timely Arrival. 298 

XXIX. All Roads Lead to Linwood. 307 

XXX. The Dawn of a New Day. 315 














THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


CHAPTER I 

TROUBLE IN THE HOME 

There came a knock on the front door. 

“Come right in,” called the farmer supposing it was 
some of the neighbors, “come right in.” 

The front door opened, a heavy footfall was heard 
in the hall, and in a moment more the form of a thick¬ 
set, middle-aged man stood in the doorway. 

“What, Deputy Bivins,” said Eben, rising to his 
feet. “Searching for jurors I suppose. Jane, will 
you lay a plate for the officer? Set up a chair, Harry.” 

“Thanks, Eben. I believe I will take a cup of coflee. 
It's a sharp morning.” 

“Of course you will, man. But you don’t want me 
for a juror, do you?” 

“Eben, it’s worse than that.” 

“Worse than that? What do you mean? What do 
you mean?” 

“Eve got a civil summons for you. Here it is,” 
said the officer, taking a paper from his pocket. “I 
may as well read it now.” 

The hands of Sarah and Jane dropped nerveless upon 
the table, and they gazed fixedly and with blanched 
faces at the officer, as he adjusted his glasses and 
raised the document to his eyes. 

7 


8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“State of Illinois,—County of Macoupin—Justice 
Court. 

“Luke Rogers, plaintiff—vs.—Eben Linwood, de¬ 
fendant. 

“The State of Illinois:—To any constable or other 
lawful officer. Greeting. You are hereby commanded 
to summon Eben Linwood to appear before me at my 
office in the town of Palmyra at ii a. m. on the 12th 
day of November 1887, to answer the complaint of the 
plaintiff, for the non-payment of the sum of $240.80. 
Due and by him demanded of defendant—Herein fail 
not, and of this warrant make due return. Given un¬ 
der my hand and seal this 10th day of November, 1887. 

L D. R, J. Poss. 

‘The miserable creeter!” exclaimed Aunt Jane. 

“No, Jane, he wants his money, and he knows I 
ain't prepared to pay. If I was he wouldn’t be so 
anxious for it.” 

“That’s about it, Eben,” said the deputy. 

“Well, it’s the first time I ever had a suit brought 
agin me in my life. Have I got to go along with you, 
officer?” 

"No, Eben, so you’re at the Squire’s office at 11 to¬ 
morrow, that’s all that’s required. In fact you ain’t 
obliged to be there. But judgment will be found 
against you, if you ain’t there.” 

“It will if I am. But what after the judgment?” 

“Why, if you don’t pay, a levy on your property. ” 

I knowed it,” said the farmer, arising from his 
chair. ‘An’ I’ll be there, deputy. There won’t be 
any levy, for I’ll pay the bill.” 

“I’ve got another summons here, Eben, where Holt 
and Town are plaintiffs. Their claim is $112.” 

“Is that right, Harry?" 

“That’s the amount, father.” 


TROUBLE IN THE HOME 


9 


"Well, deputy, I owe it. Is that all?” 

“One more, in which A. K Brown is plaintiff. 
$67.00. ” 

"Yes, yes. I owe that. What next?” 

"That’s all now.” 

"Oh, they’ll all come in. All but Dr. Wood. 
Hanged if he sha’n’t have his money first of all—an¬ 
other cup of coffee, officer?” 

"Thank you, Eben, no. Sorry I had to serve notice 
on you. But you know how it is with officers. No 
choice. ” 

“Don’t mention it, deputy. It may as well come from 
you as anyone. ” 

"Well I must be going. I have several more to 
serve further west; but, Eben, times have been poorly 
all around. Why don’t you draw a mortgage for a few 
years on the farm, for enough to clear off your debts? 
And before it’s due, a good, big crop or two will meet 
it. I think Joel Bland would let you have the money.” 

"Joel’s a hard man, deputy.” 

"Hard or not, he’s got the money, and he couldn’t 
bear on you beyond the provisions of the mortgage. " 

"Well, I’ll see. I’ll be there.” 

"Good morning to you all,” and the officer took his 
departure. 

"That's the only way, wife, that’s left. We are 
forced to mortgage to pay our debts. If we don’t 
they’ll sell our personal property to pay ’em. And if 
that fails, sell the farm under execution.” 

"You know best, Eben, but it seems hard to have 
to put a mortgage on our home, to give that money 
bags, Joel Bland, a clutch at it.” 

"Eben!” 

"What is it, Jane?” 


IO 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Nothing, but I was thinking. I guess there ain’t 
no other way.” 

“The debts must be paid, Jane. Law and judgments 
and executions would only increase them.” 

“Make the mortgage for five years, father. We can 
surely pay it in that time." 

“Oh, father, I am so sorry our home will be mort¬ 
gaged. ” 

“Come. Dry your eyes, mother, and you, Jane. 
Our debts will be no greater. Surely, before the 
mortgage falls due we shall have better crops and can 
pay it. ” 

“I am bound to do something to help, father.” 

“We shall see. Harry, will you hook Fan to the 
buggy? I must go and see Joel.” 

A half hour later the farmer and his son were on the 
road to Palmyra. 

Arrived in town Eben drove direct to the office of 
Joel Bland. 

Bland was a bachelor of perhaps fifty years of age. 
A rather small, undersized, sharp featured man, who 
was reputed to be the wealthiest man in the county. 
It was said that his wealth was small when he became 
a citizen of Macoupin, some twenty years before, but he 
was sharp, shrewd, and unscrupulous. A close man in 
making a bargain, and very exacting in its fulfillment. 
His wealth had been largely acquired by loaning money 
to farmers and others who had been at the necessity 
of borrowing. He always charged the highest interest 
allowed by the law, and nothing but a good clean, 
first mortgage would satisfy him, and woe to the man, 
yes, or woman, that failed to meet any mortgage he 
might hold when due. It was foreclosed at the ear¬ 
liest moment allowed by law, and thus, in many cases, 



He Started for the Door. 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 11. 


















































































































































































TROUBLE IN THE HOME 


13 


farms had come into his possession, and somehow, as 
hard as he was, it was about as well to borrow the 
money of him as another. For if the real estate mort¬ 
gaged was worth more than the amount of the mort¬ 
gage, before it came due the document was very apt 
to be found in his possession. 

Little wonder then, that Eben had said he was a 
hard man. 

He held farms in all directions of the county, that 
he had obtained for far less than their value, by first 
loaning money on them. 

He was the only man in Palmyra that had a sign 
above his door—“Real Estate —Money Loaned on Mort¬ 
gages" and half of the people in the county hated 
him, and all who were so unfortunate as to fall into his 
clutches feared him, until they got out again. 

His office was a small frame structure on the prin¬ 
cipal street of the town, near the court house, and 
back of it were three rooms in which he lived, or at 
least slept and ate his meals which were either pre¬ 
pared by himself or the only one he would have around 
him under any circumstances—Mark Ellis, a nephew 
who was a son of a younger sister, now dead 

Mark was now twenty years of age. When he came to 
Joel from another state six years before, and handed 
him a letter that his mother had written before her 
death, importuning him to look after the interest of 
her son, and said: “It was mother’s last request that 
I find you and hand you this letter," Joel had read 
the letter. 

“What!" he exclaimed, “your mother dead? You 
my nephew? ’Spose you are! ’Spose you are! You 
don’t expect to live on me in idleness, do you?” 

The young lad who stood beside his desk said: 


H 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Mother told me, sir, you were a hard man. But I 
had thought you would be grieved to hear of her 
death. It was my promise to her, alone, that brought 
me here. I bid you good day. I had no thought to 
trespass on your bounty,” and he started for the door. 

“Stop! Stop, sir! Where would you go? What 
would you do? Be seated until I think.” 

The boy’s quick action to depart and say no more 
had surprised Joel. Had he whined, as he expected 
he would, “I have no one but you, sir,” the chances 
are that Joel would have let him go and closed the 
door behind him. Now, he had called him back. 

Why? 

“Perhaps,” he thought, “this boy will say some¬ 
thing that will set the whole town to talking about 
Joel Bland. Of how he turned his sister’s child from 
his door. They are talking enough about me now.” 

Perhaps he thought, “The boy seems bright and 
quick. I may be able to use him. He may save me 
money. ” 

Again, he possibly may have conjured up in his mind’s 
eye a vision of the sister who, thirty years before, 
he had trotted upon his knee, and whose childish 
arms were clasped about his neck, as her lips kissed 
the face that had not then been made hard and cruel 
by avarice. 

He might have thought: “Perhaps the boy is left 
with money or property enough to take care of him¬ 
self. ” 

Be that as it may, he sat for a moment as if in 
a deep stud}', with his eyes cast on the floor before 
him. 

Suddenly he exclaimed : “Poor Fannie! She was 
the last but me. So, she’s dead and gone. Let’s see. 
I think your father died first?” 


TROUBLE IN THE HOME 


15 


“He has been dead nine years, sir.” 

“Did he leave property?” 

"No, sir. My father was unfortunate for several 
years before his death, and his health was such as to 
cause him to lose his business. He left nothing.” 

“Humph. Shiftless, I suppose.” 

“No sir. I do not care to hear you speak of my 
father so, and, if there’s nothing else—” 

"There is! There is! Pray how did you and your 
mother live, if your father left nothing?” 

"My mother, sir, took in sewing, and worked harder 
than she ought to keep me in school. I sold news¬ 
papers on the street, and in the winter shoveled snow 
from the pavements. Mother contracted consumption. 
I think it was the sewing that caused it. Had I been 
a man, sir, she would not have died.” 

"Took in sewing for a living? Fannie? Little 
Fannie? Brought on consumption by hard work? Had 
I have known her needs?” 

"She wrote you twice, sir, and received no answer. 
It nearly broke her heart.” 

"I thought she was exaggerating." 

“She could not well have done that, sir." 

“Well, well! I should have gone and seen her. 
Yes, I should have gone. But I didn’t. I didn’t. 
Poor Fannie,” and Joel took his handkerchief from 
his pocket and wiped his eyes. 

Perhaps there was occasion. 

“Let me see. Your name?” 

“Mark, Mark Ellis.” 

"Yes! Yes! How old are you, Mark?” 

"I am nearly fourteen, sir.” 

"You would like, I suppose, to go to school longer?” 

"That was my mother’s wish." 


i6 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Well, I sleep here. This is my office. Back of it 
I have three rooms. I take my meals at a boarding¬ 
house. Pll quit that on your account. There’s a 
cook stove in the kitchen, there. One I took on a 
debt. We will live right here. You can cook, or try 
your hand at it, and take care of the horse, or we can 
do it between us, and you can go to school. 1 reckon 
you can earn your expenses. There’s a lounge in the 
next room. You can sleep on that till we get a bed. 
Does that suit you?” 

“My mother wished me to stay with you, if I could, 
and go to school, and as for cooking, I had the most 
of that to do at home, for a year before her death, she 
could not walk. ” 

“Too bad. Too bad. But it’s a bargain. You can 
start to school in the morning. Now build a fire in 
the kitchen stove. ” 

So it was that Joel had received his nephew. He 
had been with him ever since, and up to the past two 
years had attended school. He was now nearly twenty 
A fine-looking young man, of good stature, of a good 
high school education and of superior abilities. 

Joel’s business had grown so that it was necessary 
for him to keep some one, and as Mark had grown to 
know a great deal about his methods in the years he 
had been with him before graduating in the high 
school, he preferred to retain him to trusting new 
help, so Mark had remained, more in deference to his 
mother’s wishes than from any other reason. 

He kept his uncle’s books—such as he had to keep 
—between them they kept the three rooms in the rear 
of the office in fair shape, and took care of the horse, 
and extra time Mark devoted to reading law. 

This, his uncle encouraged him in. “It’s what I 


TROUBLE IN THE HOME 


17 


should have done at your age,” he said. “It makes a 
man shrewd and cunning. I doubt not I’d been worth 
more money if I’d read law.” 

Perhaps another thing that had aided Mark in form¬ 
ing a determination to remain with his uncle, had 
been that at school he had formed the acquaintance of 
pretty Pearl Linwood. 

On several occasions, when his uncle had business 
in the direction of Linwood, Mark had waited until 
after school hours, and driven Pearl over to see her 
father and mother, and later he had hardly ever driven 
that way without calling. It would have been hard to 
have found remunerative employment about Macoupin, 
and perhaps Mark couldn’t tear himself away from the 
locality where Pearl lived. 

His remuneration had been such as his uncle chose 
to give him. At twenty he was a comely youth, with a 
determination to make for himself a name and a fort¬ 
une. He was very commonly attired. The little 
money that fell into his hands from his penurious uncle 
he required to purchase law books. 

Not being able to dress as well as other young men 
about the town with whom he might otherwise have 
associated, he was never seen in their company. Thus, 
probably, he escaped their vices. His only compan¬ 
ions were his lav/ books and his crafty old uncle. He 
loved his books. He abhorred some traits of his 
uncle’s character, but was thankful to him for the 
opportunities he had. 

This was the Mark Ellis to whom Linwood had re¬ 
ferred at the breakfast table, when Pearl had expressed 
a wish that she might earn money to help pay off the 
debts, and might go to Chicago and try. He had re¬ 
plied : “What will Mark Ellis do?” 

The Girl from Macoupin 2 


i8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


At Joel's door Farmer Linwood drew up the reins, 
and with his son alighted from the buggy. Harry tied 
the horse and they entered the office. 

Mark Ellis was seated at the desk, with one of his 
law books before him. He arose from his chair. 

' Good morning, Mr. Linwood. Good morning, Harry. 
\\ ill you be seated?” 

“Is your uncle about, Mark? I called to see him. 

“He has just stepped over to the courthouse. He 
will be back directly. Be seated. ” 

The farmer and his son seated themselves. 

“Mark, I wanted to see your uncle about borrowing 
some money to pay my debts. I s’pose I’ll have to 
give him a mortgage on my farm.” 

“I dislike to see you borrow money, or mortgage 
your home to my uncle, Mr, Linwood. You know, 
he’s a hard man in business transactions, and should 
you not be able to meet the mortgage he would sell 
you out without compunctions of conscience." 

“I know it, Mark, I know it. But I must have the 
money. ” ^ 

“Yes, I know, Unce Joel said last night that Squire 
Ross had issued summons for you in three cases. He’s 
looking for you. He said you’d have to mortgage. 
He keeps track of the financial condition of every 
man in the county, I think.” 

“Then, he thought I’d come to him?” 

“Yes, he said you must." 

“Well, as well him as anyone. If I mortgaged to 
someone else he’d have the mortgage before it fell 
due. ” 

“True. He’d be apt to if you mortgaged to some 
one that would dislike to foreclose, for he'd buy the 
mortgage. ” 


TROUBLE IN THE HOME 


19 


“So I’d as well mortgage to him in the first place.” 

“It would seem so. 1 think he’s gone over to look 
up your title." 

At this moment the office door opened and Joel 
entered. 

“Good morning, Eben Linwood,” he said, as he 
stepped up to the stove rubbing his hands together. 
“Good morning, Harry. I was rather looking for you, 
Eben.” 

“You see I’ve had pretty tough times for the past 
four or five years, Joel, and I’ve run behind. I’ve got 
to have money to pay my debts.” 

"People’s beginnin’ suits agin you, I hear.” 

“Yes, that’s what’s stirred me up. Those that I’ve 
traded with for the last twenty years have got skeered, 
I guess, that Eben Linwood’s turned dishonest in his 
old age, and they’re tryin’ to push him to the wall.” 

“You never got behind before, did you?” 

“No, Joel, never.” 

"That’s the reason they never crowded you before, 
but you can’t blame ’em. You owe the money, I 
s’pose?” 

“Yes, I owe it.” 

“How much?” 

“How much is it, Harry?” 

"All told, $612.80.” 

“A good sum, Eben. How much do you want to 
borry?” 

“Well, I was thinkin’ that $500 would do. I’ll sell 
pork enough to pay the balance.” 

"’Taint enough. It’ll still leave you crippled. You 
want enough to square up every dollar you owe, and 
you’ll need something more than your crop and hogs ’ll 
bring, to carry you through another season. You must 


20 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


stock up more and plant all your land. That’s your 
only chance. I’ve examined your title. It’s all right. 
Men call me a hard man, Eben, but I ain't. I only 
want my feller man to fulfill his agreements to the 
letter, and if he deals with me, he’s got to do it. Now, 
I know your needs. I know, too, that you’re honest, 
and I’ve made up my mind to loan you, on a good, 
clean, first mortgage, $750, at 10 per cent. The 
mortgage to run two years.” 

“Well, I could use the $750 and no mistake, but 
make it five years. Make it five years and that would 
give me a chance should we have another bad season.” 

“Can’t do it, Eben. You see, I may need my money 
in that time. There’s no reason you can’t pay it then. 
With both of your children home half of your expenses 
will stop. Oh, I don’t doubt you can meet it." 

“Well, I’ll have to accept your terms." 

I thought they’d suit you. Now, you can go on 
home. I’ll have Mark go over to the court-house and 
draw up the mortgage right away. Of course your 
wife has got to sign it. I want to look round a bit. 
I’ve got other business over that way. I’ll bring 
Bates, the clerk of the court along. He ain’t doing 
anything to day, and you can both sign before him 
there." 

“And the money?" 

“Oh, I’ll bring that along. $750. Of course you’ll 
have to pay for the drawing of the mortgage.” 

Well, good morning, Joel. I’m obleeged to you. 
I’ll just drive over to the squire’s and tell him I’ll be 
on hand to-morrow and go on home. We’ll be looking 
for you.” 

“You needn’t feel that you’re obleeged to me a bit, 
Eben. I don’t loan my money to obleege people. If 


TROUBLE IN THE HOME 


21 


I did I wouldn't have any. I loan it to make it grow, 
and where I have ample protection.” 

‘‘Well, good morning.” 

“Good morning.” 

After the door had closed on Eben and his son, 
Joel turned to his nephew. “There, Mark. You see 
there’s $150 for the use of $750 for two years, and 
prime security. That's the way to make money,” and 
Joel rubbed his hands together and chuckled. 

“But why not have let Mr. Linwood have the money 
five years? and given him a better chance, since the 
security is ample?” 

“Well, you see, that’s another secret of success in 
this business. S'posen he can’t pay it when it’s due 
in two years? What’s the result? If times is hard, 
few people will have money. I’ll foreclose and buy 
in the farm at my own figure. Perhaps make $1,000 
by the turn. If times ain’t hard, and I choose to, why, 
I can extend the mortgage. See?” 

“I should dislike to have harm come to Eben Lin' 
wood, uncle.” 

“Whose talkin’ about what you’d dislike? I thought 
I heard somethin' 'bout you drivin' Eben’s daughter 
Pearl out to Linwood a few times. P’raps that’s got 
somethin' to do with your feelins. If’t has, and you’ve 
got any soft spots in your heart, you might as well quit 
law, fer you won’t amount to nothin'.” 

“If I thought that law would make me hard-hearted 
and unscrupulous, uncle, I'd cast it aside, even to be¬ 
come a day laborer.” 

“Stuff and nonsense, boy. All romantic notion. All 
I want is what belongs to me. Go over and draw that 
mortgage. You’ll find the record of the old deed 
there. Beware of women and stick to your law. You’ll 
improve with age.” 


22 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


It was three o’clock that afternoon when Joel and 
Bates entered the farmer’s house. 

The mortgage was spread out on the dining-room 
table, whare it was signed by the farmer and his wife. 

"I mightily hate to sign,” Sarah had said. “It seems 
like signing away our home.” 

“Oh, it’s but for two years, Mrs. Linwood” remarked 
Joel. 

“But, in two years, if we can’t meet it,” said Sarah. 

“If we don’t mortgage,” said Eben, “the farm will 
be levied on before the week’s out." 

“It seems as though I was signing my death war¬ 
rant,” Sarah said, but she signed. 

Aunt Jane and Harry signed as witnesses. All ac¬ 
knowledged their signatures before the clerk. 

Joel counted out $ 750, in crisp new bills. 

"Take ’em, Harry, take ’em and put ’em away. 
We’ll go in and pay the debts to-morrow. The home’s 
mortgaged, wife. But we’ll work hard to meet it 
when it falls due. Pearl, my child, don’t cry.” 

“Well,” said Joel, as he thrust the mortgage in his 
pocket, “Our business is soon over. I trust you’ll 
come out all right. Good day." 

“Good day, Joel. Good-day, Bates.” 

As they passed down the lane the farmer turned to 
his wife: “It’s hard, and thank God, they’ve gone, 
but, t’was the last resort. The last resort.” 


CHAPTER II 


AUNT JANE TO THE RESCUE 

It was at a later hour than usual that night when 
the family of Eben Linwood retired. 

Gloom seemed to pervade the household. 

"If we fail to meet that mortgage, Ebsn, we Know 
what to expect at the hands of Joel Bland.” 

"Yes, wife. We know there will be no quarter 
shown there. Consequently we must work to meet it. 
Though, if we should fail, I could probably mortgage 
to some one else, and raise the money.” 

"If we only had the nephew to deal with, Eben, in¬ 
stead of the uncle. IP s strange Joel Bland has a 
nephew so different from him.” 

"It is, Jane. The young man warned me against 
his uncle, but when I told him that whoever I bor¬ 
rowed the money of Joel would probably own the 
mortgage when it fell due, he allowed he would if the 
party was a man who wanted his money and disliked 
to foreclose. The nephew is going to make another 
man from Joel. ” 

"If I hadn’t thought so,” said Pearl, "I would not 
have ridden home with him.” 

"That you wouldn’t, Pearl. I’ll answer for that,” 
said her father. 

"I have an idea, father, that if I was to go to Chi¬ 
cago, I could get a position and help meet that mort¬ 
gage. ” 


23 


24 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“It’s out of the question, boy. I can’t run the farm 
without you, and, now, after the debts are paid, with 
the money we'll have left, and crop returns, we can 
put on another team in the spring, and plant the whole 
place. ” 

“I guess your father’s right, Harry. I couldn’t bear 
that you should leave home,” said Sarah Linwood. 

Very little was said by Harry during the rest of the 
evening, but he sat gazing into the fire, seemingly in 
a deep study, until the clock struck ten, when he 
arose, holding the crumpled advertisement page of a 
city newspaper in his hand, bade the family good¬ 
night, and retired to his room. Half an hour later 
every member of the family had retired. 

A light shone from but one window at the house at 
Linwood, and that was from one of the two in Harry’s 
room. 

He had retired but a candle yet burned on the bu¬ 
reau, and his eyes were not closed in sleep. 

“Father would never consent to it,” he remarked 
aloud, “and yet,—Suppose the fortune of the pait five 
years follows us. What will be the result ? The farm 
will be sold to satisfy the mortgage. Joel Bland will 
buy it in for a song. To be sure, father will get the 
money it brings, over the amount of the mortgage and 
interest, but what can he do with that? Perhaps be¬ 
come a tenant on his own farm. Shall I stay quietly 
here at home and see all that? Or, shall I do as other 
young men have before now? Leave home and seek 
a field where I may obtain money to lift that mort¬ 
gage? Other young men, I have heard, have prospered 
in Chicago, why not I? Some have gone there with a 
few hundred dollars, and in less time than this mort¬ 
gage has to run, turned it into thousands—a few hun- 


AUNT JANE TO THE RESCUE 


2 5 


dred dollars? But 1 wonder what put that in my 
head? I’m crazy. No, I ain’t,” and the young man 
jumped from his bed and walked the floor excitedly. 
“Here, right here in this paper it tells where a bright 
young man can turn five hundred dollars into thou¬ 
sands in a few months. If it was a swindle the editors 
wouldn’t put it in, nor the police allow it, nor the 
good city people let them do it. 

"Seven hundred and fifty dollars. $500 from it would 
leave $250. With that father can pacify his creditors 
until the wheat and hogs are sold. Then he can pay 
the balance. With the $500 in Chicago, if I had the 
fortune of many, I would soon be able to return and 
place three times the amount of the mortgage in my 
father’s hands.” 

Harry, your thoughts are running in a dangerous 
channel. No matter what your motive, your estimates 
of the chances, the editors, the police and the people 
are all wrong. 

“Yes, and Pearl should have the piano. I would 
ship one from Chicago. Father is getting older all 
the time, yes, and mother too. The farm is less pro¬ 
ductive and we have less stock, and no fertilizers. 
But what would father say? And mother? And Aunt 
Jane? Let’s see. If I should take it and go—take 
what? Why, the $500. I would leave a letter. What 
would 1 say? Let’s see. Here’s paper and a pencil. 

"‘My dear father:’—Now what next? ‘I foresee that 
we shall not be able to meet that mortgage, if we rely 
on the farm. Your home will be lost in your old age, 
and yourself, mother, Aunt Jane and sister Pearl will 
be driven from the roof that now shelters you. Or, 
you will become the tenants of a miserly wretch. I 
can’t stand it, father. Other young men have gone to 
Chicago with a few hundred dollars and made fortunes 


26 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


in a short time. I may not make a fortune but I feel 
that I shall return before that mortgage falls due, 
and place in your hands many times the amount. Yes, 
father, I shall restock the farm, and bring Pearl her 
piano. Do not believe that I have done wrong. God 
knows how I love you all, but I know that neither 
yourself or mother would listen to the idea for a mo¬ 
ment, and yet I am satisfied it is the only course. I 
take with me $500. I have enough beside to pay my 
way to Chicago. With the $250 left you can satisfy 
your creditors, until you have sold the grain and hogs. 
Then you can pay them in full. You shall hear from 
me soon. God bless you all. Do not condemn me. 

“Your loving son, Harry. 

P. S.—I shall take the 4 a. m. train for Chicago, 
and when you discover this, will probably be there. 

Harry. 

“There. Now let me read it over." 

Harry, you would better never have written it. 

He read it over, word by word, and tears stood in 
his eyes when he had finished. 

“Father, you can but understand my motives. My 
letter fully explains all." 

He folded the letter, wrote his father’s name on the 
back of it, placed it on his bureau, and got in bed 
again. But not to sleep. His watch, face open, he 
placed on a chair at the head of the bed. The hours 
passed by, but his eyes closed not. He was thinking. 
Thinking of the step he was about to take, and more 
than once he remarked : 

“It is the only chance to save my father’s home.” 

At length he looked at his watch. “What, 1 o’clock. 
Within an hour I must decide. God help me to de¬ 
cide. " 

God don’t help people, Harry, in wrong doing. 

For half an hour his eyes were riveted on the white 
ceiling of his room. 


AUNT JANE TO THE RESCUE 


27 


Suddenly he started, grasped his watch and looked 
again. “What, but half an hour has passed! It seems 
an age. ” 

Again he laid his head upon the pillow and watched 
the minute hand advance. 

He was trembling nervously in bed. 

“Twenty minutes—fifteen minutes to two. Only a 
quarter of an hour to decide. Ten minutes. Five. 
Two o’clock. Now I must go, or never—Hark! I hear 
a dog howl on the highway. It is a sign of death. 
Of the death of my new-born idea. The hound says 
that it will die. I’ll prove him wrong for once. I 
will die or save my father’s home.” 

Harry quickly arose from the bed, donned his new 
suit, packed a second one in a hand valise, placed his 
watch in his vest pocket and from beneath his pillow 
took the long pocketbook in which he had placed the 
money for which his father had mortgaged his farm. 

The money that was to pay all his debts. 

He opened it and took therefrom the contents. 

He counted from the flat surface of the bills $500, 
and thrust it in an inner pocket of his vest, replaced 
the smaller amount in the pocketbook, and placed it 
on the pillow of his bed. The letter to his father he 
placed beside it. 

“The die is cast. ” 

There was no hesitation now. Silently, yet quickly, 
he raised the window of his room; and, with valise 
in hand, stepped forth into the air. As he did so again 
the dog howled. 

“You lie, you cur! You are a false prophet!” 

The night was clear and the stars twinkled merrily 
overhead. 

Rapidly Harry walked down the lane to the gate. 


28 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


There he turned and gazed intently at the roof, be¬ 
neath which slumbered, unconscious of the blow that 
awaited them, those that he most dearly loved. 

"Good-bye, my dear old father and mother. Good¬ 
bye my darling sister. Farewell, Aunt Jane. There 
will be happier times when I greet you again.” 

The tears were rapidly coursing their way down his 
cheeks, as he hurriedly passed over the road, and at 
four o’clock he was one of the passengers on the train 
as it glided away over the prairie en route for Chicago. 

Eben and his wife had lain awake and discussed their 
troubles until midnight. 

Aunt Jane and Pearl had each passed a sleepless 
hour or two, and the result was, that it was at a later 
hour than usual on the morning of the 12th that the 
family were astir. 

Harry was usually the first to arise, and he it was 
who started the fire in the kitchen stove. 

This morning it was Aunt Jane who first entered 
the kitchen, and no bright fire greeted her eyes. 

The stove was cold and so was the room. 

"Poor boy,” quoth Jane, “probably both he and his 
father lay awake late. It’s a pity to call them,” and 
she bustled about and built the fire. Presently the 
clock struck the hour of seven. 

"I declare, I must awaken them now The horses 
and cows must be seen to,” and she picked up the 
bell from the dining-room table and swayed it back 
and forth a few times. “There. That will arouse 
them.” 

A moment more and Eben in his stocking feet en¬ 
tered the room. "Mornin’ Jane. What, after seven. 

I declare. I don’t know when I’ve slept so late. 
Harry, I s’pose is out to the barn." 


AUNT JANE TO THE RESCUE 


2 9 


"He’s not up yet, Eben. Poor boy. I guess he 
was awake late.” 

“Yes. Yes. I s’pose so. Well, let him sleep till 
breakfast, if your bell didn’t wake him,” said the 
farmer, as he pulled on his boots. “There ain’t much 
to do. Just feed up and milk the cows. I’ll do both 
this mornin’. And after breakfast Harry can hook 
up and we’ll start for town It will be a satisfaction 
to have all the debts paid up, even though the amount 
ain’t lessened. It’s all in the hands of one man, and 
we know he can’t worry us for two years.” 

The farmer departed for the barn with his milk pail, 
and as the door closed on him, Sarah and her daugh¬ 
ter made their appearance, 

“Good morning, aunt.” 

"Same to you, Pearl, and Sarah too. Your pa’s 
just gone to the barn. Harry ain’t woke up yet. We’ll 
let him sleep till Eben comes in.” 

"Poor boy,” said his mother, “he feels it as deeply 
as any of us, but something tells me that it will come 
out all right. ” 

"Pearl, your father won’t be long, if you’ll set the 
table I’ll have the breakfast ready agin he comes in.” 

“Yes, Aunt Jane, I’ll build a fire in the dining-room 
first. It’s cold this morning.” 

Pearl had regained something of her former cheer¬ 
fulness, and went about her work humming a tune as 
usual, while her mother assisted Aunt Jane in getting 
the breakfast. 

While milking the cows the farmer was making his 
plans. "I s’pose them fellers will be glad to get their 
money. I’ll drive past Mr. Wood’sfirst and pay him; 
hanged if I don’t. He always comes when he’s sent 
for, and he ain’t never said a word. It’ll be a real 


30 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


pleasure to pay him. Then I’Ji pay the balance. I’ll 
have some left. By the ist of March I’ll have maybe 
$100 from the hogs, and from three to four hundred 
dollars from grain. I’ll buy that pair of colts from 
Collins, if he ain’t sold them. Let’s see. $225 he 
wanted for ’em, an’ then, Harry an’ I’ll put in a 
slashin’ crop. Oh, it’ll come out all right.” 

By the time he entered the kitchen breakfast was on 
the table. 

“Ain’t Harry up yet?” said the farmer, as he glanced 
around the room. “It beats the mischief how the boy 
sleeps. Pearl, you’d better call him.” 

"Yes, father,” and Pearl soon ..tapped on her broth¬ 
er’s room door. There was no answer. 

She opend the door. 

The room was empty, but on Harry’s pillow she 
quickly spied the pocketbook and letter. 

"Why! what does this mean?" 

She raised both objects from the bed and read her 
father’s name on the back of the folded paper. 

She took the letter and pocketbook direct to her 
father, who by this time was seated at the table. 

“What does this mean, father? I found them both 
on Harry’s pillow. The letter is addressed to you. 
Harry is not there.” 

“Not there? Not in his room? Quick, daughter! 
Hand the letter here! The boy was very blue last 
night. 1 fear he has gone in search of work, and yet, 
how could he, when he knows my plans?” 

With trembling fingers Eben unfolded the letter, and 
with anxious faces his wife, Aunt Jane and Pearl 
watched his features. 

Whiter and whiter became his face as he read the 
lines traced by his son’s pencil. 


AUNT JANE TO THE RESCUE 


31 


The end was reached. 

“God! Oh, God!” 

The paper fell from his nerveless fingers to the 
floor. 

“My boy! My boy!” 

He tottered to his feet but sunk back into his chair, 
a helpless, crushed man. 

“Water! water, Pearl! God help you all!” 

“Why, Eben, Eben!” exclaimed his startled wife. 

“He’s gone, Sary! Gone! And $500 of the money 
for which we mortgaged our home has gone with him. 
The letter! Read it, Pearl, for I can’t. Mother, I 
can’t.” 

Pearl raised the letter from the floor and started to 
read it, but ere she had proceeded far she too broke 
down. 

“My brother! My brother! My poor old father!” 
and she burst into a flood of tears. “Here, Pearl. 
Give me the letter. It must be read." It was Aunt 
Jane who spoke, and she nerved herself to her task, 
and read it through. 

Sarah Linwood swooned at the table. 

“Your mother! Look to your mother! Oh, my boy, 
my boy. Could you but s^e the ruin, the broken hearts 
you have left behind.” 

Aunt Jane was greatly agitated but her lips were 
closed firmly together, as if in determination. 

“Eben, there need be no sorrow, no broken hearts 
at Linwood. Harry’s intentions are noble. This step 
has cost him many pangs. Do you not see, the boy 
is judging the future by the past. He foresees greater 
disaster unless he saves the farm. How could he make 
the money with nothing?” 

“My dear boy,” moaned Sarah Linwood, who had 


32 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


revived, “and you, husband. This blow is ter¬ 
rible. ” 

“It must be borne, wife, though it crush us to the 
earth but how can I face my creditors now? It is 
already known that Eben Linwood has mortgaged his 
faim to pay his debts. My boy is missing. The debts 
are not paid. What will the neighbors all conclude? 
That Harry’s a thief, wife. A thief, and stole the 
money for which his father mortgaged his farm. Why 
did I place the temptation within his reach? By 
telling him to care for the money. Had I but dreamed 

“Eben Linwood, let no man or woman say that my 
nephew is dishonest. Whether or not his step has 
been a wise one, time alone will tell. His motives 
were such that you should be proud of him. ” 

"But the disgrace! The disgrace!” 

Jane arose quickly from the table and passed to her 
room. 

When she returned she held in her hand a shot bag, 
and something was within it. She untied a string 
from around the mouth of the bag, and emptied the 
contents upon the table before Eben. 

He started back in surprise, for before him on the 
table lay a heap of golden coin. 

“That, Eben, shall protect my nephew’s honor and 
pay your debts. That money was my share of my 
father’s estate. It’s lain in my trunk for nigh twenty 
years. I thought there’d come a time for its use. It has 
come now. In no better manner can I ever use it 
than in shielding the name of Harry from undeserved 
condemnation. I started the other day to tell you to 
take it and pay the debts, but before chat I had de¬ 
cided to send Harry to the medical college with it, 



•‘That, Eben, shall protect my Nephew’s honor and pay your Debts.’ 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 33. 







































































































































































































AUNT JANE TO THE RESCUE 


35 


so I let you mortgage the farm knowing that if Harry 
got to be a doctor, he could clear the mortgage. Now 
you know all. Take it and pay the debts. There’s 
$400. $250 Harry has left. You can still pay all 

your debts.” 

“I can’t do it, Jane. God bless you, but I can’t do 
it. If you have saved that money all these years, 
Eben Linwood won’t be the man to take it from 
you." 

"You shall! You must, Eben! I’ll go myself and 
pay the debts. ’Taint like you couldn’t pay it back 
one of these days. If anyone asks about Harry, just 
you tell them he’s gone to Chicago to look for work. 
I’ll answer for Harry.” 

“Jane, you always were the guardian angel of this 
family. ” 

"A rather sorry lookin’ angel, Eben. But hurry 
now, get out the horse and take Pearl with you. 
You’ve got to be there by 11 o’clock. Now, don’t you 
look blue, and you, Pearl. Look lively like nothin’ 
had happened. My word fer it, you’ll be proud of 
Harry in the end.” 

“I expect Jane’s right, Eben," said Sarah, “she 
generally is.” 

A half hour later, the farmer, with Pearl by his 
side was seated in the buggy, driving over the road, 
over which, a few hours before, his son had preceded 
him, and when he returned to Linwood his last debt 
had been wiped out. 


CHAPTER III. 


A CORNER IN WHEAT. 

It was about 9 o’clock when Harry arrived in Chi¬ 
cago. 

This was his first advent in a city larger than Bloom¬ 
ington. 

From the Illinois Central depot he walked west on 
Monroe street, noting with surprise the lofty business 
blocks that loomed up on every hand, eight, ten, and 
fifteen stories into the sky. He noted the teeming 
life on every side, and all to him seemed hurry and 
bustle. 

“Surely,” he thought, “in this vast mart I shall 
find opportunities by the score, where $500 can be 
used to great advantage; and yet, how little it seems 
in Chicago.” He passed the Palmer House, glanced 
in at the open door and saw the elegance of the in¬ 
terior. 

“Surely,” he thought, “I must seek a less expensive 
hostelry than this." 

He passed on to Clark street, where he secured a 
room in a hotel kept on the European plan, for a dol¬ 
lar a day. That seemed a good round price, when 
down in Macoupin both room and board could be had 
for $3 a week. 

“I will take it temporarily,” he thought, “until I 
select a boarding place.” 

All that day he roamed around over the city, ac- 
36 


A CORNER IN WHEAT 


37 


quainting himself with the streets and seeing, should 
he desire, and found no use for the $500, if he could 
find employment. He bought a paper for a penny, 
and in the want column found where a number of 
clerks were wanted in various business houses of the 
city, and to four of the places he applied. 

At the first one he found no less than a dozen young 
men waiting for an interview with the proprietor. He 
was told that he must wait and take his chances with 
the rest, and after having waited perhaps half an hour, 
a porter summoned all of the young men into the pro¬ 
prietor’s office. In this time five more had arrived. 
There were now fully eighteen, and of ages running 
from 18 to 35 or 40, both single and married men. 

The would-be clerks were all formed along the side 
of the wall, at one side of the office. 

Finally the proprietor whirled his chair around and 
glanced at them. He was a fat, bald-headed little 
man who was all business and nothing else. 

“Well, young men, I advertised for a bill-clerk. I 
only want one. Here is a multitude. I want a young 
man who will stay with the firm and learn the busi¬ 
ness. If I find him worthy and the right man, in time, 
he will be advanced. We have plenty of opportuni¬ 
ties to get young men, for their first year without pay. 
Their fathers would gladly place them with us in 
order that they might learn the business. But when 
we take a young man in that manner, and he is in¬ 
competent, the parents become indignant if we dis¬ 
charge him. Therefore we prefer to employ our young 
men & from the start. However, I see a number here 
whom I need not delay. They would not suit. We 
want a young man, and those here over 22 years of age 
may go now. I could not employ them. 


38 


'the girl from Macoupin 


Over half of the number, one by one, filed out. 

“Now, whoever we employ, must be a good scholar 
and a good penman. Must be of good moral charac¬ 
ter, have good city references, and be satisfied, the 
first year, with a remuneration of six dollars a week. 
Those that can’t fulfill all of these conditions,may go. ” 

Four more departed. Among the number being 
Harry. 

“Six dollars a week,” he remarked on reaching the 
sidewalk, “and $i a day for a room. Where is board 
and clothing coming from? Surely I could never help 
father at that rate.” 

One of the young men overheard him. “If that was 
your idea, my boy, in coming to Chicago," he said, 
“you’ll get left. You’ll have to call on the old man 
for car fare to get home." 

“I guess not," said Harry. 

“Oh, I know, you country lads think all you’ve got 
to do is to strike Chicago and you’ll roll into a good, 
fat job, and in a few years betaken in as partner and 
roll in wealth. But, say. You hear once in a great 
while of one that has met with great fortune and suc¬ 
cess. The ninety nine who are hustling for work and 
drawing money from their dads to live on, you don’t 
hear of. ” 

“I suppose not all succeed." 

“About as I told you. Ninety-nine out of the ioo 
wish themselves back on the farm. And you speak 
of a dollar a day for a room. If you get a place that’ll 
allow you to pay $3 a week for room and board the 
first year, you’ll do well." 

“Where can you find board for that in Chicago?” 

“Oh, do as we do. Rent a room and board in a ten 
cent restaurant." 


A CORNER IN WHEAT 


39 


Harry left these young Chicagoans and applied at 
another place. 

“Are you acquainted with the streets of Chicago? 
How long have you been here? Have you any city 
references? Can you speak German?” 

Harry’s answers were unsatisfactory. 

“We don’t want you at any price.” 

At another place they wanted a middle-aged man, 
and after trying a dozen others, Harry gave it up. 

"Clearly," he remarked, “if I’m to look for employ¬ 
ment, I shall have to search for more laborious work, 
or strike out in a different channel.” 

It was 4 o’clock when he got back to his rooming 
place. 

Before supper he wrote a note to his father, as fol¬ 
lows: 

"Dear Father:— I arrived all right and am full of 
hope. Love to the dear ones. Your affectionate son, 

Harry. ” 

After supper, as he was sitting in the hotel office, 
a young man, who was evidently day clerk in the 
hotel, asked him if he was going to the theater. 

"No,” said Harry. “No theater until I see a way 
of making more money than I do at present.” 

“Oh, come on. I’ve got two tickets that were given 
to me.” 

It went a little against Harry’s conscience to go, 
even on a free ticket but he did go, and on the way 
home, after the play was over, his new friend remarked: 
“Now come on. Let’s have a good stiff toddy, and 
go home. Pm about broke to-night or I’d show you 
how to make money. I draw my week’s salary to¬ 
morrow, and I’ll show you then.” 


4 ° 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“I never drink,” said Harry. “Whisky would pre¬ 
vent the execution of my plans.” 

“I guess you’re about right,” said the young man. 
“It’s caused me to lose two good places.” 

Arrived again at the hotel, Harry immediately 
sought his bed, but he was astir early in the morning, 
looking for the opportunity that had brought him to 
Chicago. About half after ten he passed by the Grand 
Pacific, turned the corner of Jackson, and before him 
stood the Board of Trade. He had heard so much of 
the Chicago Board of Trade and of the vast fortunes 
made there, that he entered the building. He passed 
up the marble stairway to the floor above. The brokers 
in the pits were yelling at the top of their voices as 
if pandemonium reigned. 

It was several moments before he could understand 
anything of what they were saying. 

At length he heard a man standing near him say: 
“That’s a good figure for November wheat, 94 cents. 
It’s advanced three cents since the Board opened. 
Look out for a break now.” 

“November wheat,” said Harry, “are they trading 
in November wheat?” 

The man laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Wheat for 
November delivery. Don’t you understand?” and he 
explained the option trades to Harry. 

“Why,” said the young man from Macoupin, “when 
I left home wheat was less than 80 cents a bushel.” 

“It’s had a boom here for the last three days," said 
the man who had first spoken. “But it’s bound to 
re-act. See, it stands there yet, at 94. My judg¬ 
ment is that before night wheat will drop 2 cents. 
Within three days it will fall to 86. I wish I had a 
thousand dollars. I’d make $10,000 on the decline. 


A CORNER IN WHEAT 


41 


There’s Murray, of the firm of Murray & Stone. Their 
firm is a stiff one. If I could put a thousand dollars 
in his hands, I’d sell that wheat.” 

“You think it’s sure to drop?” said Harry. 

"How can it help it. Heavens man. There’s a 
clear advance of seven cents a bushel since yesterday 
morning. Just think of it. Oh, if I had the money.” 

Somehow this class of men never have the money. 
The fact of the matter is that if they ever had it they 
lost it on some of the certain turns, that failed to ma. 
terialize. 

"Are you acquainted with this Mr. Murray?” asked 
Harry. 

"Oh, yes. He used to be my broker. Do you wish 
to see him ?” 

“Well, I might risk a hundred dollars, if it’s sure.” 

“A hundred dollars! You can safely put up your last 
dollar. It’s the chance of a life time. Murray! Mr. 
Murray!” 

“Hey, Jones! What is it?” 

“Here’s a young man that wants to know if wheat’s 
a sell” 

“It should be, Jones, it should be. Cables are weak, 
and but one man is holding it up. It’s rumored that 
he’s got .all he can carry, and that a slump is at hand. 
If it breaks, I predict a decline of ten cents.” 

“I just said seven. The young man thinks he might 
sell ten or twenty thousand” 

“Well, if he sells 10,000 and it drops 10 cents a 
bushel, it clears him $10,000. If he sells 20,000, the 
same drop clears him $20,000 Of course, if he sells 
more on the decline, he makes more money. There 
might be a pretty chance for $100,000.” 

“What would margin 20,000 bushel, Mr. Muiray?” 


42 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"$200 would margin it one cent a bushel. And 
every cent the wheat drops is $200 gain to you." 

"Suppose it keeps on advancing?” 

"Well, it must advance 7-8 of a cent to freeze you 
out. You see, commissions are 1-8, and if it advance 
7-8 I should, of course, close you out unless, of course, 
you are margined before it reached that point. Another 
$200 would protect you against another cent’s rise. 
Do you understand?” 

"Yes, I think so," said Harry nervously. "If I 
thought—” 

"Well, you must act quick if you want to trade. It 
won’t stand there long. My opinion costs you noth¬ 
ing. I regard that wheat as a dead sure sale, and 
Jones knows that it is not to my interest to advise my 
customers the wrong way.” 

"That I do, Murray, for if your customer is on the 
right side he remains your customer. If lie’s on the 
wrong side, you lose him." 

"This may be my very chance,” thought Harry. "I 
can never help father with the money in my pocket. 
I’ll try a hundred dollars. If I win with a hundred 
dollars, I’d win with two." 

"Mr. Murray! You can sell 20,000 bushels for me,” 
and from his roll of bills Harry counted off $200 and 
handed the broker. 

Murray scribbled him a receipt. "Now step inside, 
Mr. Linwood, and I’ll sell your wheat.” 

A moment and it was over. 

"There, I got it off at 94 1-8. You have made com¬ 
missions by waiting. Now wait around here some¬ 
where, where I can see you in case of need,” and the 
broker jumped into the wheat pit again. 

He had already made his $25, whether Harry won 
or lost. 


A CORNER IN WHEAT 


43 


He had only to buy in the wheat before the last 
eighth of a cent was exhausted. Little difference to 
him whether his customers sold or bought, lost or 
won, his commissions were just the same, not but that 
he would have preferred his customer to win, for in 
that event he could look for additional trades, which 
meant additional commissions, and he undoubtedly 
thought wheat was more apt to decline from the point 
it had reached than to advance. 

Harry had slipped back near the door. 

“What did you sell at,” asked Jones. 

“94 1-8,” said Harry. 

“Good! You’re in commissions already." 

Jones failed to state how sharp he was, as he would 
undoubtedly get a $5 bill from Murray for having 
found him a customer. 

“There you are, 93 7-8, you are $25 ahead of your 
commissions. 93 3-4, see, that gives you a profit of 
$ 5 °* 

“I have a notion to take it," said Harry, as he 
nervously looked toward the wheat pit. 

“Suit yourself; you know what Murray said, that 
he looked for a ten cent drop. If I had the deal, I’d 
hold it, and when it dropped a cent, sell 20,000 more. 
You won’t have to put up any more margins. This 
is your chance Why it started right off your way. 
You got in at the high point. There, it’s 93 5 8. 
What did I tell you. You’ve got a sure thing. $75 
ahead now. ” 

Just then a bare-headed man ran in through the 
door shouting as if he was crazy, and the next mo¬ 
ment Harry heard the cry: “3-4 bid 7-8, 94, 1-8, 
1-4, 3-8, 1-2, 5-8, 3-4." 

At that moment he caught sight of Murray rushing 

toward him. 


44 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“It’s took a spurt up. Quick! What shall I do? 
Another eighth freeezs you, or will you remargin? 
$200 more carries you another cent. It can’t go that. 
Quick! Quick!" 

Harry plunged his hand into his pocket. “Here! 
Here, Mr. Murray! Hold it! Hold it! You ought 
to know." Yet, as Murray rushed from him to the 
pit, he would have recalled him. 

“7-8 bid,” called a broker. 95, 1-8, 1-4, 3-8" 

“I declare," said Jones, “that looks bad. I was 
completely fooled. That corner ain’t broke yet.” 

“Tve heard of wheat corners,” said Harry, “is this 
one?" 

“Don’t know? Looks like it. Now there it is, off 
an eighth again." 

For an hour there was not a variation of 3-8 of a cent. 

“No use of watching it,” said Jones. “It’ll only 
make you nervous. It will act just the same if you 
don’t watch it. Trade ceases for the day at 1 o’clock 
It’s 12 now. Go and get a cup of coffee and then 
come back and see how you stand. If you want to 
margin anymore, give Murray your money first. But 
I don’t believe I would. If it freezes that, it might 
freeze more, but I guess it’s struck top. ” 

“I shall margin no more,” said Harry. “I believe 
I’ll go and get a cup of coffee. I can’t control the 
market by watching it." 

Harry hastened downstairs, and at a lunch-counter 
procured a cup of coffee and a sandwich, and hastened 
back. November wheat was 95 3-8. It was half after 
12. 

“Right where you left it,” said Jones. “There’s 
apt to be lively action the last half hour, and if it’s 
only your way—" 


A CONNER IN' WHEAT 


45 

“God grant it,” thought Harry. 

No action for another ten minutes. 

“95 1-2 bid. 5-8, 3 4 .” 

The shouts were going up all over the wheat pit. 

“Want to remargin, if she goes higher?” 

“No, no,” said Harry, half choking. 

Don’t blame you. Looks like a corner. Well, you 
can’t guess the market every time, can you, Jones?” 

“Not always! Not always Murray. The young 
fellow’s got grit though, but that won’t control the 
market. ” 

“There! I must save myself. I’m afraid you’re 
gone young fellow.” 

“ 95 . 7-8; 96, 1-8, 1-4, 1-2, 3-4; 97, 1-4, i- 2 ; 98, 3-8, 
5-8; 99; 99, 1-2; 100.” 

Clang! Clang! went the bell. 

“Caesar’s ghost,” said Jones, “November wheat 
closed at a dollar. A corner! A corner, sure.” 

“And my trade?” 

“Why, bless you, you have no trade. Murray’s lucky 
if he’s got out without loss to himself. Just think. If 
you’d had $800 more on that deal you’d lost it.” 

“How’d you get out, Murray?” 

‘Just sold in time. Saved my commissions by a 
narrow pull. Sorry for you, young fellow. Better 
luck next time. Come on, Jones, let’s go and get a 
cocktail. The devil take these corners. You never 
know when one’s coming.” 

Murray and Jones hastened away. 

For fully five minutes Harry stood there near the 
doorway. The surging throng of brokers jostling him 
as they passed out of the building. Then he turned 
and with white face and blanched lips, made his way 
from the building. 


46 TrfE GIRL FROM MACOURltt 

“My father! My poor old father!" 

A half hour later he was lying across the bed in his 
room at the hotel, reproaching himself for having left 
home with his father’s money, even though his in¬ 
tentions might have been of the best, the results to 
those he loved would be the same. 

“The dog howled when I left my home. I inter, 
preted it wrong. It was a warning I should have 
heeded." 

The young man’s grief finally gave way to tears, and 
is it strange, little as he had slept the night of the 
12th, that he fell into a fitful slumber? 


CHAPTER IV 


THE FOUR O’CLOCK FREIGHT 

When finally Harry awoke, he glanced at his watch. 

It was six o’clock. 

The young man was nearly heart-broken, but he 
knew that $400, was gone to return no more. He 
washed his face, combed his hair, and descended the 
stairs. 

After he had been to supper, at about 8 o’clock his 
acquaintance of the night before said to him : 

“I’m going where I can make $100 in a half hour 
to-night. Do you want to go?" 

"Yes," said Harry, “I’ll go anywhere where there’s 
a chance to make money." 

A half hour later his companion conducted him into 
a Clark street gambling-house. 

It was brilliantly illuminated and elegantly fur¬ 
nished. 

“This is the first time,” said Harry, "that I was 
ever in a gambling-house. Had I have known it in 
time, I should not have entered here.” 

"Oh, there’s no harm,” said his companion, "just 
watch me double this $5 bill.” 

He stepped up to a faro table and invested his $5 
in ivory chips at 50 cents each, and sure enough, fort¬ 
une favored him. No matter what card he bet on, 
he won, and in less than twenty minutes he passed his 
chips over to the dealer and received $55. 

47 


4 8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Now will we go, or do you want to try your luck?" 

Harry thought of the $400 gone. He wondered if 
this might not be a chance to recover it. But $100 
of the $500 he had taken from the mortgage money 
now remained. It consisted of five 20 dollar bills. 

He took the small roll from his pocket. 

“The Jack has lost twice,” said his companion. 
“The next one should win.” 

Harry laid one twenty on the Jack. . 

The Jack lost again, and his twenty was swept into 
the drawer of the table. 

“Three times the Jack loses. Only one more in the 
deck. It looks as though that must win.” 

Harry thought so too, and placed two twenties on 
it. 

Again the Jack lost. 

“I declare,” said the hotel clerk. "It lost out. 

Four times. Well, the 7’s a three time loser. I 

don’t believe that can lose out also,” and from his 

$55 he selected a $20 bill and placed it on the 7. 

“All ready,” cried the dealer. “All ready!” 

“Wait,” said Harry, and he placed his last two 

twenties on the 7. 

It lost. 

“Come, let’s go,” said the hotel clerk. My luck’s 
turned. I’m not going broke to-night. Come on. 
You look white as a sheet. You’ve had hard luck, but 
there’s no use crying over spilt milk." 

“Won’t you have something before you go, gentle¬ 
men?” asked the genial proprietor. “There’s the side¬ 
board. Julius,” he continued to a colored porter, “wait 
on the gentlemen.” 

"A little whisky for me, Julius,” said the clerk. 

“And for me,” said Harry. 


THE FOUR O’CLOCK FREIGHT 


49 

In his feelings of desperation he would have drank 
liquid fire. 

"Call again, gents,” was the cordial invitation as 
they left the room. 

"Come on,” said the clerk. "I’m winner. Let’s 
go into the house of David and have some oysters.” 

Mechanically Harry accompanied him. 

"Two stews,” ordered the clerk. “First, Harry, two 
whiskies. A good one will put a little more life in 
you, and cause you to forget your losses. Come on.” 

The clerk himself turned out the fiery liquid, and 
filled the glass well. 

Harry drank his without a word. 

"Bravo! You’ll be one of the boys in another 
week.” 

They ate their oysters and by the time they had 
risen from the table, the liquor that Harry had drank 
began to tell on him. His face became flushed instead 
of pale. He was somewhat unsteady on his feet, and 
the lights in the room were doubled to his vision 
"Now, a bumper to wash the oysters down, and then 
to bed.” 

It was with unsteady steps that Harry mounted the 
stairs to his room. 

The taste of whisky had been unknown to him until 
this night. 

He found the keyhole, and after an interminable 
time, succeeded in inserting the key and unlocking 
the door. 

His mind was in a state of chaos, but he lighted the 
gas and locked his door. By that time the effects of 
the liquor began to benumb all of his faculties, and 
he fell crossways on the bed, clothed as he was, and 
soon lapsed into unconsciousness. 

The Girl from Macoupin 


5 ° 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


When he was awakened it was from the noise made 
by the night clerk knocking on room doors in the 
hall, awaking those who desired to take the four 
o’clock morning train. 

Harry started up in surprise. "What, my room 
lighted, and I lying here undressed, and my head! my 
head! Oh, I remember all, now. Four hundred dol¬ 
lars lost on the Board of Trade, $100 lost in a gam¬ 
bling den. This is the way I was to help my father. 
And, worse than all, drunk! Was it for this I left 
home? Home! I have no home, now. I can never 
write my dear old father. I have disgraced the name 
of Linwood. Why should I live to be a reproach to 
my family? Had I succeeded, all would have been 
well. Failing, all is wrong. My very motive would 
be misconstrued. Better were I dead—I have the 
means." 

The young man jumped from the bed and opened 
his valise. From it he procured his revolver. 

"One shot from this will settle all, as far as I am 
concerned. This plan won’t do. My body would be 
found here, an account of my suicide in the papers, 
of course my poor old father would come on, and there 
would be more expenses. A different plan from this 
must be found. Let’s see. The time, 3:15. I can’t 
stay here. I’ll leave now. The hotel people will think 
I’m leaving for an early train. I wonder have I money 
left. Yes. These silver pieces in my pants pocket. 
$3.50. If my body is found with that it will show I 
did not starve to death.” 

He replaced the revolver in the valise, unlocked his 
door and with grip in hand descended the stairs. 

"What, Mr. Linwood," said the night clerk, "you 
off this morning?" 


thp pour o’clock prLioht 51 

“Yes, I am going west on the four o’clock train. I 
paid in advance?” 

“Oh, that’s all right.” 

“Good-bye,” and Harry was soon on the sidewalk. 

He walked east on Madison to Wabash, then turned 
north, and at half after three, he found himself stand¬ 
ing on the middle of Rush street bridge. 

The morning was dark and foggy and the feeble 
ray of the gas jets little lighted up the gloom. 

Harry leaned over the railing and gazed below. 

His eyes could not penetrate the darkness to a depth 
at which the murky waters of the river lay. 

“Here in the darkness and gloom is the place to 
bring the career of Harry Linwood to a close. His 
sun must set in shame. The river below shall receive 
me. The valise I will drop over first. If my body’s 
found it may be thought that I was robbed and mur¬ 
dered and then thrown into the river. 

“Oh, father! If you could see your unhappy son, I 
think you would forgive me—forgive me? I am a 
coward. Better live. Fight fate, and redeem the 
name I have disgraced. But howl Determination 
will find a way. But away from Chicago ; and until 
I can do so, those at home would better believe me 
dead—I have it! There is no other way. 

The young man opened his valise again and from it 
took a hat and coat. 

The hat he dropped on the bridge. 

The coat, after having first placed some papers in 
the vest pocket, he fastened to the railing of the 
bridge. 

“There! that should do.” 

He grasped his valise, passed on across the bridge, 
and hastened westward on Kinzie street. 


52 


'THE GIRE FROM MACOUPIiSf 


He knew not where he was going. 

“Anywhere! Anywhere! So that Chicago is left 
behind." 

The air of the city he felt would stifle him, but 
how get away? There was but one way—walk. 

Presently he found himself in the freight yards of 
the Northwestern R. R. Company. 

A freight train was made up and awaiting orders to 
depart, and as Harry passed along the side of the 
train, he spied the door of one of the cars ajar. He 
pushed it farther back, threw in his valise, raised 
himself by his hands and crawled in. He next shut 
close the door and struck a match. He saw that he 
was in an empty grain car. He glanced again at his 
watch. 

The engine whistled. 

The wheels moved. 

The train sped away to greet the dawning day. 
Away from the din and noise of the big city. 

“I lied not to the night clerk!” exclaimed Harry. 
“I am leaving for the West on the 4 o’clock train.” 




Harry takes the four o’clock train. 

Girl from Macoupin, p. 53. 











































































































































































































































































































































i 


CHAPTER V 


“dead or alive, he needs us” 

The reader will remember that it was the morning 
of November 12th Harry Linwood had left his home. 

It was at three o’clock on the afternoon of the 14th 
that Pearl, who was sitting at the dining-room win¬ 
dow, saw a horse and buggy coming down the lane. 
The distance was too great for her to recognize the 
driver, but the horse she knew. It was the one she 
had ridden behind with Mark Ellis. 

Eben Linwood sat brooding over the kitchen fire. 
Suddenly he was startled by his daughter’s voice. 

“Papa, there is a horse and buggy coming down 
the lane " 

“Who is it, daughter?” 

“I can’t tell yet, but the horse is one Mark used 
to drive.” 

“Joel Bland’s? I wonder what brings him again. 
He can’t have heard of Harry’s taking the money?” 

‘ It ain’t Joel Bland, father. I can see now. It is 
Mark Ellis." 

“He is more welcome than his uncle, Pearl.” 

“From what I’ve seen of him,” said Sarah, “I think 
he’s a downright nice young man.” 

In five minutes there was a knock at the outer door. 

Pearl passed into the hallway and opened it. 

“Good day, Miss Pearl,” said the young man. “Is 
your father at home? I have a letter for him. I was 

05 


56 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


in the postoffice just after dinner, and Brink, the post¬ 
master, heard me say I was coming back this way. 
He said—'There’s a letter here for Eben Linwood. 
He’d doubtless be obliged to you, if you’d take it to 
him. 3 ” 

"So I am," sang out Eben. "Come right in. It’s 
coldish away from the fire.” 

"Is the letter from Chicago, Mark?" asked Pearl. 

"I judge it is. It’s postmarked Chicago." 

"Chicago! Chicago! do you say?" exclaimed Eben. 
"Then it must be from Harry. There ain’t no one 
else there to write to me." 

Here Pearl and the young man entered the kitchen, 
and Mark handed Eben the letter. 

"I’ll get warmed up a bit before I start out again, 
by your leave, Mr Linwood." 

"Go right in the dining-room. You and Pearl both. 
I want to read this letter to mother and Jane. 

"Jane! Jane! Sarah!" 

Jane entered the kitchen by another door as Pearl 
and Mark were passing into the dining-room. 

"What is it, Eben? Did you call?" 

'Yes, Jane. Yes, mother, here’s a letter from Har¬ 
ry.” Read it, Jane, read it. It makes me shaky. 
I’m that nervous." 

Jane read what Harry had written the evening of 
the 12th at the hotel in Chicago. 

"So the boy’s full of hope," said Eben. "Well, 
mebe his course was right but I declare, it don’t seem 
so." 

"His intentions were all right/’ said Aunt Jane. 
"Ive got lots of hope for Harry. I ain’t afraid of his 
going wrong. Just wait. Give the boy time." 

Yes ? I’ve hearn tell that Rome want bi;ilt in & 


DEAD Oft ALIVE, HE NEEDS US” 


57 


a 


day, and the farmer passed into the dining-room 
where Pearl and Mark were seated, and handed the 
letter to his daughter. 

“It was from Harry. He’s well and thinks he bids 
fair to do well. I’m obleeged to you for bringin’ it 

out. ” 

“You are entirely welcome, Mr. Linwood. I would 
have brought it further than I have to have heard of 
Harry’s welfare.” 

“I think you wish my boy well.” 

“Be assured I do.” 

“Well, he has great hopes." 

“I trust, Mr. Linwood, they will materialize. My 
early recollections of a city are not such as to cause 
me to feel like seeking one, and yet I may, after I’ve 
received a diploma as an attorney.” 

“Why should you leave your uncle? You surely 
have expectations in the future from him.” 

“My uncle is a peculiar man. His heart and soul 
seem only to be bound up in the accumulation of 
wealth. The idea that he must die and leave it don’t 
seem to enter his head. I’m truly sorry for my uncle. ” 

In a half hour the young man drove away 

“What do you think of that, Jane. The young man’s 
sorry fer his uncle? And he the wealthiest man in 
town. ” 

“And the meanest, too, Eben. I don’t blame the 
boy. ” 

On the evening of the 15th the family were seated 
around the fire in the little sitting-room when there 
came a knock at the door. 

Eben arose and opened it. “What! You, Mark, 
my boy? Not another letter from Chicago? Come 
right in. Glad to see you always. Take off your 
overcoat. ” 


5 § 


'tHe GiRL ProM MacoupIN 


"Good evening, Mrs. Linwood. Good evening, 
Pearl and Miss Walker." 

"Set down, Mark. You must be nigh about froze," 
said Sarah. 

“It is pretty cold," observed Mark. 

"It must have been something important that 
brought you over. 1 know you didn’t want to see 
Pearl that bad." 

"Why, father!" Pearl blushed and hid her face on 
her mother’s shoulder. 

"I’drive a good ways, even on a night like this," 
said Mark boldly, "to get a glimpse of Pearl's hand¬ 
some face. But it was not that that brought me over 
to-night. I wish it had been.” 

"I see, now, you look worried. You ain’t got no 
bad news for us? Not a letter from Harr)’?” 

"I have no letter from your son, Mr. Linwood, but 
I have bad news. Very bad. You must all bear up 
as best you can, and remember, there may be hope." 

"Give us your news, Mark, whatever it is. We 
must bear it." 

The farmer could think of nothing worse than that 
by some means it had been ascertained in Palmyra 
that Harry had carried away $500 of the mortgage 
money. 

In fact the mind of each member of the family ad¬ 
verted to that. 

"If bad news is unwelcome, it must be heard," 
said Aunt Jane, "but you can’t always believe all you 
hear." 

"I sincerely hope," Mark said, "this news may be 
false, or not as bad as printed." 

"Printed! Printed news? About my boy? Where? 
Where?" 


“dead or alive, he Needs us iJ 


59 


In this paper, Mr. Linwood. It is a morning paper 
from Chicago. Here is the item; shall I read it?" 

“Yes, yes. Read it.” 

“Remember, it may not be true, but if this item is 
correct, your son is probably dead. ” 

“Dead! Dead! No, no! Impossible!” 

“Read the item. Read it, Mark." 

All faces were blanched as Mark read. 

MURDER OR SUICIDE. 

At daybreak on the morning of the 14th, the hat 
and coat of a man were found on Rush street bridge. 
The coat sleeves were tied together, around the rail¬ 
ing of the bridge. The hat is black, and what is 
termed a slouch. The coat is of dark material, and of 
frock pattern, and in the inside pocket were found 
papers bearing the name and address, “Harry Lin¬ 
wood, Palmyra, Macoupin county, Ill.” It was sup¬ 
posed on yesterday by the officers that the finding of 
the hat and coat indicated a case of suicide or possi¬ 
bly murder, though hardly murder, as it seems im¬ 
probable that a murderer would have left a hat or coat 
of his victim on the bridge. He would have thrown 
them from the bridge after the body. It has been 
ascertained that on the 12th a young man, bearing the 
name Harry Linwood, registered at the Moulton 
House, on Clark street Both the name and place of 
residence are identical with the name and address 
found on papers in the coatpocket of the missing man. 
This young man, as stated by the night clerk, left the 
hotel shortly after three o’clock on the morning of 
the 14th, stating that he was going West on the four 
o’clock train. If going West, it is not easily under¬ 
stood how he came to be at the Rush street bridge, 
which is not in the direction of the railway depots. 
True, he might have got lost on the streets of the 
city. At present the case is shrouded in mystery. 

“Poor boy! Poor boy!” exclaimed the farmer, 
tremulously. “Wife, we have but one child left.” 


6o 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Don’t you break your heart yet,” said Aunt Jane. 

“I don’t believe a word of it. Mark, let me see 
that paper.” 

“Murder is generally for the purpose of robbery,” 
observed Mark. “I suppose he had not much money 
with him?" 

“Why, he had—” commenced Eben. 

“Not enough for any one to rob him,” Aunt Jane 
said. 

“Oh, no; not enough for that,” said Eben quickly. 

“Why would he commit suicide?" asked Mark. 

“He wouldn’t. I don’t believe a word of it. That 
boy’d never commit suicide. Never! He had differ- 
ent plans made. True, he may have been murdered 
by some one that thought he had money, but I don’t 
believe it. The paper don’t say anything ’bout his 
valise. What's become of that?” 

“Why, Jane, if he was killed, the robbers got it." 

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But Eben Linwood, 
you and I start for Chicago in the morning. There’s 
one thing certain, something is wrong with Harry, 
and there’s no one but you and I to clear the matter 
up. ” 

“I thought Mr. Linwood might wish to go,” said 
Mark. 

Sarah Linwood and her daughter were weeping hys¬ 
terically. 

“Dry your eyes, Sarah," Aunt Jane said, “until we 
know of a certainly that Harry is dead. I believe 
something has gone wrong with the boy, but not that 
he’s dead. No, not that he’s dead.” 

Mark remained until near io o’clock, when he took 
his departure. 

“Thank God, Jane!” exclaimed Eben, after he had 
gone. “No one knows he had that money.” 


“DEAD OR ALIVE, HE NEEDS US” 


6l 


“Something’s happened him, Eben, on account of 
having the money. Don’t you see. If it’s stolen or 
he’s lost it in some manner, he’d be desperate. His 
pride wouldn’t let him come home. But suicide? 
No. No, Eben, I can’t think that.” 

"But his hat and coat on the bridge, Jane?” 

“Don’t ask me. Don’t ask me. Dead or alive he 
needs us. ” 

“In the morning, Jane, we will go.” 

“God grant, husband, that you bring home 
son.” 


our 



CHAPTER VI 


EBEN AND JANE VISIT CHICAGO 

Bright and early on the 16th Eben drove his buggy 
up to the door, and Aunt Jane, dressed in her best, 
was, by Pearl, assisted to a seat in the buggy. 

"Now, don’t worry more than you can help, wife, 
nor you, Pearl. Just hope for the best. I guess 
Mark will drive over this evening and see how you’re 
getting on, and if Jane and I ain’t back in a couple of 
days,we’ll write. Good bye.” 

"Good-bye, husband. Good-bye, Jane." 

The buggy whirled away and Pearl and her mother 
re-entered the lonely house. 

Arrived in Palmyra, Eben and Jane were met at the 
depot by Mark. 

"Will you take the horse over to the hotel barn, 
Mark? He might as well stay there till we come 
back. Mother and Pearl will have enough to do with¬ 
out taking care of him, and if you could, drive over 
and tell ’em we got off all right.” 

"Certainly, Mr. Linwood. And if there should be 
such a thing as you bringing home Harry’s body, will 
you telegraph to me?" 

‘Body? My boy’s body?” and tears gushed from 
the old man’s eyes. "Yes. God help us if we but 
find his lifeless body.” 

"You won’t get any telegram of that sort, Mark. 
Mind what I tell you," said Aunt Jane. "And if you 
go to Linwood, don’t talk as if you expected to.” 

62 


EBEN AND JANE VISIT CHICAGO 


63 


“Certainly not, Miss Walker.” 

"Good morning, Eben. Good morning, Miss 
Walker." 

It was Squire Ross who happened to be at the 
depot, who addressed them. 

"I declare I’m sorry for the business that calls you 
to Chicago. Read it in the papers. I never looked 
for Harry to commit suicide. Never!” 

"Harry’s never killed himself, Squire Ross.” 

"Well, Miss Walker, if he ain’t, he’s been mur¬ 
dered. It's mighty bad. A bright young man like 
him. I suppose you’ll bring the body home? There’ll 
be a big turnout when they have the funeral. I told 
my wife this morning she’d better drive over and 
comfort your wife and Pearl.” 

"Don’t send her, Squire, don’t send her," said Aunt 
Jane. “Just keep her away till I come home. They 
don’t want to see anybody, and then, Squire, we won't 
have any funeral arrangements until its certain that 
Harry’s dead. It ain’t certain yet. I’ve no idea on 
it.” 

“Not certain? Why, don’t the paper say so?” 

“The paper says a coat was found with his name on 
a paper in the pocket. What does that prove? It 
don’t even prove that it was his coat. Someone might 
have found the paper and picked it up and put it in 
their pocket. I don’t want anyone going to Linwood 
and consoling my sister, until they know what they’re 
talkin’ about.” 

“Here’s the train, Mr. Linwood,” exclaimed Mark. 

“Yes, Jane, come on. Come on. We must go. 
Good-bye, Squire. Don’t mind what Jane says, but 
I guess she’s ’bout right. Generally is, you know. 
Good bye, Mark." 


6 4 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


A moment more and the train was bearing them rap¬ 
idly from Palmyra. 

Squire Ross gazed after it and shook his head. 
“That Jane always was contrary-minded. There she 
is hopin’ agin hope.” 

it was nearly two o’clock when Eben and Jane de¬ 
scended from the passenger coach in Chicago. 

They had entered the city over the Illinois Central 
road, and for several miles before the train came to a 
halt at the Lake Front depot, they had been within 
the city limits. 

“One thing certain, Eben," said Aunt Jane, as they 
passed out the depot onto the street, “if the boy’s 
alive and well it’ll take us a month of Sundays to find 
him in this place. For land’s sake just look at the 
buildin’s an’ the people." 

'Well, where’s our first pint, Jane. ’Cordin’ to 
your idee?" 

“Well, first Eben, we must go to the hotel were the 
boy put up. What was the name? You’ve got the 
paper there." 

“Yes, here ’tis. It’s a good thing I brought it," 
and Eben spread out the paper before him and ad¬ 
justed his glasses. 

“Moulton House." 

“That’s it. Well, our first pint is there. We’ve 
got to put up somewhere, and that’s the spot where 
Harry was stoppin'. We may learn somethin' there.” 

“It’s on Clark street." 

“Clark street? I wonder where’s that. Here, I’ve 
hearn tell of policemen. That must be one on that 
corner with them brass buttons on his coat. I wonder 
what he’s standin’ there for? He’s leanin’ against that 
buildin’ like he was tired." 


EBEN AND JANE VISIT CHICAGO 


65 


“Mebby he is. I expect policemen have to work 
mighty hard in a big city like this, to keep order and 
protect lives and property.” 

“Mebby, Eben, he’s skeered the bnildin’ aint safe, 
and is propped up agin it as a warnin’. We better 
cross on tother side." 

“Pshaw, he ain’t there fer that, Jane. Jest look up 
at the top of that buildin’. If ’twas to fall, bein’ on 
tother side the street wouldn’t help us. We’d half to 
be nigh about half a mile away. We’ll cross over an’ 
I’ll ask him where Clark street is. I reckon he 
knows. ” 

Our country friends were soon on the corner in front 
of the officer. 

“Could you tell us, officer," asked Eben, “where 
Clark street is?" 

"It’s four blocks beyant. Jest kape on goin 1 as ye 
are," said the officer, straightening up, "but what part 
of Clark strate do ye want? It’s about fifteen miles 
long.” 

"There, Aunt Jane, we may be ten miles from that 
there hotel. ” 

“What hotel are ye lookin’ fer?" asked the officer. 

Out came the paper again. 

“Moulton House, officer." 

“Just two blocks south when you reach Clark. 
That’s south," and the officer pointed in that direc¬ 
tion. 

“You ain’t heard anything about Harry Linwood 
yet, have you? The paper said some on you found 
his coat and hat on the bridge. I’m the boy’s aunt, 
and this is his father, Eben Linwood." 

“I don’t know " said the officer. “You’ll find all 
about that at the City Hall. Go to the police de¬ 
partment." 


66 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Come on Jane.” 

They soon reached Clark street, where the busy 
passing throng would not let rhem stand still, and they 
were forced south. 

“It ’pears to me, Jane, we’ve drifted ’bout fer 
enough this way,” said Eben, suddenly. “Now, hold 
on to me. I’m going to break out of this current. 
The first open door I see, I’m goin’ to Dolt in.” 

He soon left the current pressing southward and 
pulled Jane with him into the open door of a restau¬ 
rant. 

“It’s just the place, Jane. We’ll eat first and then 
go to work." 

A waiter found them seats and handed them the 
bill of fare. 

“What’s that?” said Jane. “The latest news? Any 
thing about Harry?” 

“No, no, Jane. ’Taint nothin’ but the program.” 

“Program? What program? No wonder they have 
programs. It’s to protect the waiters. They’d have 
to talk themselves to death. ” 

“Look a here, Jane. I’ve just found out. You see, 
everything here has got it’s price printed opposite. 
If we’d ordered the whole bill we’d never knowed 
what hit us. It’d broke us up.” 

‘What’s the beef quoted at, Eben?” 

‘ Thats’ 25 cents." 

"And the coffee?” 

“Five cents a cup. ” 

“Well, here comes a waiter.” 

“I’m ready for your order,” said that individual. 

“Give me roast beef, rare, and a cup of coffee, ” said 
Eben. 

“Yours, madam?” 


EEEN AND JANE VISIT CHICAGO 


6? 


No, that’s Eben’s. I never did like rare beef.” 

“Well, have it well done or medium.” 

Yes, meegum. Give it to me meegum, with coffee. ” 

Away went the waiter. 

“Eben, did you ever see the like? There must be 
nigh on to 400 people eatin’ here. ” 

The waiter soon placed their orders on che table 
before them, accompaniedby several side dishes. 

“Eben, I expect that 25 cents means for each of us.” 

“Yes, Jane, I calculate it does." 

“I wonder if tother dishes is extra?” 

"I don’t know, Jane. Let’s eat just as if we knowed 
all about it” 

When they had concluded their meal, they still sat 
for some time Finally Eben motioned to a waiter. 
“What’s my bill,” he said. 

“There’s your check beside your plate. Pay the 
cashier at the desk.” 

“Well, I declare, Jane. If they ain’t afraid to 
trust their waiters. Come on.’ 1 

Eben placed a silver dollar on the desk and the 
cashier handed him 40 cents. 

“Can you tell me where the Moulton House is?” 
asked Eben. 

“Right upstairs,” was the reply. “This is the Moul¬ 
ton House restaurant.” 

“Jane, here’s the place. Probably Harry ate his 
meals here. Jess like as not he sat at the same table. 
Let’s go upstairs. It makes me nervous to be where 
my boy was, and not know more.” 

“This way, Eben." 

Eben was blinded by the tears that stood in his eyes, 
as Jane led him out the front door, and they passed 
up the stairway and into the office. 


68 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Together they stepped in front of the register. 

‘A room,’’ asked the clerk. 

“I expect so. Be you the landlord ?” 

The young man smiled as he remarked : “No. I’m 
the day clerk ” 

“Did my son, Harry Linwood, from Palmyra, come 
to this house on the i2ch of this month?” 

‘Linwood! Harry Linwood” repeated the cleik. 
“Why, yes. He's the young man that’s supposed to 
have committed suicide. Here’s his name on the 
register,” and the clerk aimed to the arrivals of that 
date. “See, November 12th, Harry Linwood, Pal¬ 
myra, Ill." 

“Let me put on my specs. There! Now, where 
is it?” and Eben bent over the register and gazed on 
the line pointed out by the clerk. “That’s it, Jane. 
That’s Harry’s handwriting. He was here.” 

Let me see the name, Eben. Yes, my nephew 
wrote that. Did you know him? Did you see him, 
young man?” 

“Yes, I saw him the night of the 13th, just before 
he went to bed. He said nothing io me about leav¬ 
ing the hotel, but, in che morning, when the early 
passengers were called, he came down and to the 
night clerk’s inquiry, he said he was going West on 
the four o’clock train. He left the hotel with his 
valise in his hand, and he’s never entered it since. A 
coat and hat were found on the Rush street bridge, 
at a later hour, and in the pocket of the coat were 
papers bearing his name. They are at the police de¬ 
partment. I have seen them. The coat is not the 
one he wore while here, yet it may have belonged to 
him.” 

“I can tell just as soon as I see it, ’ said Eben. 


£ben and jane visit Chicago 69 

But was he in any trouble? Do you think he had 
any idea of killing himself? Or do you think he was 
murdered” 

The young man thought: "Whether Harry is dead 
or alive, why cause his father and family to feel worse 
by telling them all I know?” 

"No," he answered, "I don’t believe he had the 
most remote idea of killing himself, and I don’t be¬ 
lieve he ever did.” 

"Young man, you’re sensible," said Aunt Jane. 

"Do you think he was murdered?” said Eben. 

"No, I don’t. Or his hat or coat' would not have 
been found on the bridge. ” 

"That’s so too. Well, We may be here two or three 
days. We can’t tell how long. I would like the 
room my son had. If you could give his aunt one 
jinin’, ’twould ’bout suit us.” 

"Certainly. The room he had is vacant, and a small 
one adjoins it. Sam,” called the clerk to a colored 
porter, "show the gentleman and lady up to 24 and 
26. ” 

The darkey procured the keys and they followed 
him, and soon entered the room that Harry had occu¬ 
pied. 

"Just think, Jane! We’re in the very room he left 
that morning. I can’t understand what idee the boy 
could have had wantin’ to go further West.” 

"There’s lots we can’t understand, Eben. Now let’s 
go to the City Hall.” 

Leaving their valise behind, they found their way 
there without great trouble. 

"Will you tell me,” asked Eben of an officer who 
was standing in the hallway, "where the police de¬ 
partment is?” 


7o 


the: girl fRoiv! macoIjpiM 


“This room right here. Is it the chief you want to 
see?” 

“Yes,” said Eben nervously, “the head man.” 

"Come here.” 

Eben stepped forward. 

“You see that man seated at the desk, the other 
side of the railing? That’s the chief.” 

“Come on, Jane,” and they entered the office. 

The secretary looked up. “Well, old gentleman, 
what is it?” 

“We wish to see the gentleman on the inside,” said 
Eben. 

“The chief? He’s busy. Will you state your bus¬ 
iness?" 

“My name’s Eben Linwood. I’m the father of Harry 
Linwood. ’Cording to the papers, some of you found 
his hat and coat on Rush street bridge, and allow 
he’s committed suicide, or was murdered. I’ve come 
up, with his aunt, to see if we can find out more 
about the business.” 

“Secretary!” called out the chief, “show those peo¬ 
ple in. It’s would-be policemen and place hunters I 
want to be protected from. Be seated, Mr. Linwood. 
And you, madam. ” 

“This is my boy’s aunt, Miss Walker. Chief, I be¬ 
lieve. ” 

“That’s right,” said the chief smiling 

“Mr. Chief,” said Aunt Jane, “can you give us any 
information about the boy?” 

“None, Miss Walker, more than is contained in the 
paper. Secretary, Officer Congdon just stepped out. 
I was talking to him about the case a short time ago. 
Will you call him?” 

The secretary soon ushered in the man our friends 
had met in the hall. 


EBEN ANI) JANE VISIT CHICAGO 


71 


“Officer Congdon, this gentleman is the father of 
Harry Linwood, of Palmyra. This lady is his aunt. 
Will you bring in the hat and coat found by you on 
the bridge, and see if they can identify them.” 

The officer departed. 

“That’s the policeman that found them, is it” 

“Yes. Rush street bridge comes within his beat.” 

Here the officer returned and laid a dark frock coat 
across the rail. 

In an instant Eben had it in his hands. “It’s Har¬ 
ry’s, Jane. It’s Harry’s." 

“Let me see, Eben. I sewed two buttons on this 
fall. They want exactly like tothers. I can tell,” 
and she took the coat in her hands. “Yes, it’s Har¬ 
ry’s coat.” 

“Here’s the papers with the name and address,” 
said the officer. 

“That’s his writin’, and his hat.” 

“State the circumstances of how you found them, 
Officer Congdon,” said the chief. 

“I was crossing from the north to the south side of 
the bridge about 4:30 on the morning of the 14th. 
At the time it was dark and foggy. My foot struck 
some light object. I stooped and picked it up. It 
was this hat. I struck a match and found the coat 
tied by its sleeves around the railing. There have been 
a number of cases recently where suicides have jumped 
from the bridges. I thought this was one. If it was 
a murder, the murder was not committed in the 
vicinity of the bridge, but elsewhere, and the coat 
and hat were placed there to mislead. 

“How much money did your son have when he left 
home, Mr. Linwood?” 

“Well,” began Eben. 


72 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Ycu see,” said Aunt Jane, “there ain’t no way we 
can tell exactly. Of course he didn’t have no great 
sum, but I don’t think he was driven by want.” 

“Did the young man have any love troubles on his 
hands? Had any lady he admired refused his hand?” 

“Refused Harry’s hand!” exclaimed Aunt Jane. 
“No, Chief, none of e’m ever had a chance. ’Taint 
that.” 

“If he left home with much money and lost it in 
Chicago, he might, possibly, have been ashamed to 
go home and make it known, and if he did not commit 
suicide have placed his hat and coat there to convey 
the impression that he did, until such time as he re¬ 
cuperated again. I have known of such cases.” 

“I wish,” said Eben, “I could think this was one of 
them." 

“Well, Mr. Linwood, I can only say that is all the 
information we can give you. The boy may be mur¬ 
dered, may have committed suicide, and his body be 
somewhere in the river. He may be alive and in 
Chicago to-day. Again,he may have gone west, as he 
informed the night clerk he would. The valise de¬ 
scribed by him has never been found. The night clerk 
is quite certain that your son did not have on this 
coat when he left the hotel. It is useless for you to 
remain here under expense. If we hear anything from 
your son, dead or alive, I will write or telegraph you 
at once. 

“If he has done something for which he is a- 
shamed, and desires it believed that he is dead, 
months might pass before you would encounter him, 
even should you and he both remain in the city. Now, 
if there was some younger member of your family 
who could find employment in the city, and remain 


EBEN AND JANE VISIT CHICAGO 


73 


here, it would be different. You see, the young man 
has committed no crime. There will be no search 
made for him, and, knowing no more than we do, you 
and his aunt best go home. It may be a long time be¬ 
fore you know more.’ 1 

"I had an idee that if he was in Chicago I could 
find him, an’ that if he was in the river his body would 
float by this time.” 

"I doubt his being in the river. And in a city of a 
million population,if you ever found him it would be 
by a mere chance. I had all the hospitals and police 
stations searched. There is literally nothing.” 

"I’ll tell you, Eben,” said Jane, "we’ll wait till 
Saturday and if we don’t hear anything we’ll go back 
to Palmyra and leave the case with God and the 
chief." 

"May I ask Chief if you’ll let Officer—Congdon I 
think you called him—show us where he found the hat 
and coat?” 

"Certainly. I can't turn them over to you yet, as we 
must hold them until we are able to ascertain some¬ 
thing of your son. Officer take this couple to Rush 
street bridge and do anything you can for them while 
they are in the city. Call again before you leave. 
Good day 

"Good day Chief" and Eben and Jane accompanied 
the officer to Rush street bridge. 

It was about four o’clock when they got there. 

As they neared the middle of the bridge Jane and 
Eben peered over the rail into the river. 

The sluggish, greasy current was slowly making its 
way into the lake, and the odor of the glue factory 
and stock yards, even in November, arose on the aiv 
and greeted their nostrils. 


74 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"Land of Goshen!” exclaimed Aunt Jane, “I’ll an¬ 
swer with my life that Harry Lin wood never went 
over that railin’ alive.” 

"Well,” said Eben, "let’s go. If he went over alive 
he’d never get out. Mortification would have set in 
before he struck the water.” 

The officer laughed, and accompanied them to the 
Moulton House, and thus ended their first day in Chi¬ 
cago. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE MAN FROM MACOUPIN 

The next day was Friday, and Eben and Jane de¬ 
voted it to making farther search for tidings of Harry. 

Eben had come down to the office when the passen¬ 
gers for early trains had been called and interviewed 
the night clerk. 

“I am positive, Mr. Linwood,” said the clerk, “that 
your son had his valise in his hand when he left the 
house, and that he did not have on the coat found on 
the bridge. His overcoat was on his arm when he 
came down. Neither did he have on the soft hat that 
was found with the coat, but a derby.” 

“Yes, that was his new one. Tother one he’d worn 
several months. But ’twas his. I sp’ose it will take 
some time to unravel this mystery." 

At about 8 o’clock Eben and Jane started out. 

From street corner to street corner they went wherever 
the throng was the thickest. On some of the corners 
they would stand for many minutes and watch the 
passers-by,hoping to catch a glimpse of the features 
of him they sought. 

“It looks like there’s bar-rooms nigh about every 
rod in this town. But ’taint no use huntin' them. 
Harry ain’t the boy to be caught in a bar-room.’ 1 

“No, Eben, he ain’t in none of them. You see that 
corner down there?" 

"Where that crowd’s passin’. Yes, looks like there 
was a regular procession going by there.” 

75 


76 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Let’s take our stand there.” 

They passed down to the corner of Madison and 
State streets, where throngs of people are passing from 
daybreak until late at night. 

“Now, if we can get a chance to stand on this corner, 
it looks like there might be a chance if the boy’s in 
Chicago. ” 

"I declare, Jane, I don’t see how we can miss him. 
It looks like the whole town is cornin’ by here.” 

“But look at ’em on tother side, Eben. There’s 
just as many over there." 

“I swan. There is. We can’t watch both sides. 
I’ll tell you, Jane, take your stand agin this drugstore 
and I’ll watch my chance an’ cross over, and take 
mine on tother side. Now, don’t move unless you see 
Harry. '* 

“There, there, Eben!" and Jane dashed from his 
side. Her bonnet was jostled well back on her head 
as she pushed through the throng 

“Harry! Harry!” with both hands she seized by 
the arm a young man who, with a companion, was 
passing amid the throng. 

He turned his head in astonishment. 

"Oh, I thought you was my nephew." said Jane 

“That’s a good one on you, Tom,' said the young 
man’s companion 

“I should say it was. Puts the drinks on me. Say, 
old gal, do I remind you of your nephew, sure? ’ 

Not a bit, said Jane. * My nephew is a gentle¬ 
man. You ain’t.” 

Truth, Jane, truth, said Eben, coming forward 
What s that, you old guy? You say I ain’t a gen¬ 
tleman? and quick as a flash the young man* s hand 
Celine in contact with one of Eben’s red cheeks 


THE Man FROM MACOUPIN ^ 

'°SauIt and battery! Case for the state, sure! Jane, 
do you see any officer? Never mind. I’ll take him ” 

Eben reached for his man. The young bruiser 
struck out, but this time with his fist. Eben’s quick 
eye saw the blow coming and he dodged, but not 
enough to escape entirely. The blow caught the side 
of his head and knocked off fyjs hat. 

Eben was wild. In an instant both his hands en¬ 
circled the blackguard’s throat. 

He jumped forward with such force as to carry his 
man clear to the edge of the sidewalk, and against an 
iron lamp post His head struck the post with a whack, 
and before he recovered from the effects, whack! 
whack! twice more Eben brought it against the post, 
and the bruiser sank to the sidewalk. 

“Give it to him, hayseed! Give it to him!” The 
throng of onlookers were shouting. 

“Look out, Eben! Tother one’s cornin’.” 

It was a fact. The other young man had been 
borne aside by the people; but now, with an oath and 
clenched fist, he was elbowing his way forward. 

“Watch this one, Jane, watch him some on you. 

He’s only stunned—here, Jane, hold my coat.” 

In a second’s time, as this oncomer pressed forward 
he struck a fearful blow. 

Eben partly parried it, and rushing forward they 
clenched. 

The feet of the aggressor struck the body of the 
fallen man, and both fell backward over the body, 
the head cf the younger man striking the stoneflag¬ 
ging with a force that rendered him unconscious. 

"Hurrah for Country! Hurrah for country!” 

By this time the street was impassable. 

Two officers came running (from somewhere) to as- 


7§ 


the girl from Macoupin 


certain what was the trouble. When they arrived on 
the scene Eben had resumed his coat and was trying 
to get the two men on their feet. His face was some 
what pale and he was excited. 

"You fellows might as well come peaceable now, as 
to make any more racket. You’re my prisoners. It’s 
a clear case for the sta|£. I’m goin’ to take you. I 
guess you won’t tackle a Macoupin farmer agin.” 

The first down had revived sufficiently to be sitting 
up, and was rubbing his eyes confusedly. 

"What’s this? What’s this?" said one of the offi-. 
cers. "Fighting is it? You’re all under arrest.” 

"Them men’s my prisoners, officers. One on e’m 
insulted my sister-in-law, and then tackled me, and 
I kalkerlate to take e’m to the chief. But perhaps 
you’ll help em." 

“Faith! Did you down ’em both? We’ll take you 
all to the station." 

"Hould on, Brady. That’s the man from Macou¬ 
pin. He’s all right. The chief put him and his sis¬ 
ter-in-law in my care. Good for you, Macoupin 
county." 

"Ain’t you Officer Congdon?” 

"Sure I am." 

"It’s all right Jane. He’s our friend. He’ll take 
care of ’em." 

"I will that, but here, here!” 

“What is it officer?” 

“Why these men are Chicken Williams and Slippery 
Jack. Two of the most troublesome sneak thieves in 
Chicago. The clothes they have on they sneaked from 
some hallway or hotel. Detectives have been after 
them for months. There’s a reward of $500 offered for 
their apprehension. All you have to do is to claim 
the reward These are the men.” 



Macoupin County scores a victory. 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 79. 














































































































































































































































■ 

* 























































































































































































































































































































































THft Man from macoupin 


81 

“Hurray, Jane! Hurray! I swan. Did you ever 
hear the like?” 

“Your detectives would never have caught us," said 
the one who last took the tumble. “We were on the 
watch for them. The devil take Macoupin farmers. 
That old dame caused our capture. She ought to get 
the reward. Hayseed, give her half of it." 

“Gosh! I’ll give her all of it." 

“Well, come on, Mr. Lin wood." 

“Come on, Jane, we’ll bring up the rear." 

’Mid many plaudits from onlookers, the officers and 
their prisoners followed by Eben and Jane, marched 
down the street to the City Hall. 

"What!” said the chief, in astonishment, “Mr. Lin- 
wood captured them both? Well, if your son has your 
grit, you need not worry. He’ll come out all right. 
It’s only a question of time. No danger of such a 
man committing suicide. Your trip has not been for 
nothing. You have been of great benefit to the city, 
and have well earned the $500 reward offered for the 
apprehension of these prisoners. If you will call in 
the morning, before leaving, I will have the money 
for you. ,, 

"Sure enough, Chief?" 

“Certain, Mr. Linwood." 

“Chief, you ain’t got any more strayin’ ’round, you 
want brought in, have you?” 

There was a hearty laugh all around at this remark. 

“Well, chief," added Eben, "you can give the two 
men who brought ’em around for me $5° eac h. And 
give tother $400 to Jane. If it hadn’t been for her 
they wouldn’t be here. Come on, Jane. We’ll be 
’round to get the money and bid you good-bye in the 
morning, Chief. The Lord ain’t forsook us, Jane, 

The Girl from Macoupin 6 


82 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


said Eben, as they passed from the chief’s office. 
“There’s your $400 back again.” 

"It want that we come after, Eben.” 

“No, Jane, but it come our way.” 

"Eben, you did yourself proud, the way you handled 
them men. I didn’t think you could do it. I expect 
it’ll all be in the papers in the morning.” 

"Well, ’taint nothin’ to be ashamed of, Jane.” 

"That it ain’t. Many a younger man might be proud 
on it. Wait till I get home an’ tell Sarah and Pearl. 
It seems as if I could see Sarah now, throwin’ up her 
hands in astonishment." 

For several blocks they passed on southward, and 
finally, before a store door on State street, they halted. 

"What is it, Jane?” 

“I want to go in here. I’m goin’ to get a pair of 
new glasses for Sary. One of the glasses in hearn’s 
broke. ” 

They stepped up to the door and a boy on the in¬ 
side pulled it back. 

"Eben, have you got a dime?” 

"Yes, Jane, yes." 

“Give it to that boy, will you. I declare he’s a 
polite little chap.” 

They glanced around. Counters and shelves of 
goods of all descriptions on all sides, as far as the 
eye could reach. 

They were in one of the big department stores of 
Chicago, where everything from a threshing machine 
to a paper of pins, is sold. Only, in different de¬ 
partments. 

"Eben,” said Jane, "do you see? All the clerks is 
girls Lands, but ain’t they dressed up fine? They’re 
neat as pins I expect they get big pay. They must. 
Them’s the ones Pearl was talkin’ ’bout.” 


'rfl£ man i<koM Macoupin 83 

“They ain’t one there that could hold a candle to 
Pearl in looks. ” 

“There ain’t none of them any smarter, that’s 
sure. ” 

Here a floorwalker approached them. “Do you wish 
to purchase something?" 

“Well, yes," said Aunt Jane. “I thought I’d get a 
pair of glasses for my sister” 

“Right across there. Three counters south. To 
the optician department." 

“The what?” 

“Optician department. There’s where the glasses 
and spectacles are." 

“Did you ever, Eben—Young lady will 3 r ou show me 
some glasses and spectacles. I want a pair for my 
sister." 

“About how much do you expect to pay?" 

"Well, I never! City women’s awful inquisitive. 1 
’low I’ll have to pay what you ask." 

“Oh, we have them from 25 cents to $25 a pair." 

“Oh, that’s it. Well, I bought the last pair for 
Sary in Palmyra for a dollar and a half." 

“Here are those for a dollar and a half. Very good 
ones, too. Do you know the number?" 

“Yes, number 12." 

“This pair is number 12. Will they suit you?" 

“Try e’m on, Eben—how do they answer for you?" 

“Just about right, Jane.” 

“Then they’ll do for Sary. Yes, I’ll take ’em." 

“Anything else?" 

“Bleeged to you, not now." 

The saleslady struck a call bell and a ten year old 
girl came and took the glasses and the $2 bill Jane 
handed over, and rushed away. 




THE GIRL FROM MACOUPltf 


“Where’s she gone with my glasses?” asked Jane. 

“To get your change, and have the glasses wrapped 
up. ” 

“Well, well. Won’t they trust you girls with 
money?" 

“None of us receive money aside from the cashier. 
That’s the custom in all the department stores. ” 

“Have you clerked here long, young lady, may I 
ask?” 

“Two years, ma’am.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Oh, as well as anywhere else. But I must leave, 
for here is another customer, “and the girl hurried to 
the other end of her counter. 

Eben, I’m goin’ to find out somethin’ before we 
leave here. I have an idee that here’s the man that 
spoke to us. " 

“Give that lady the glasses and the 50 cents, num¬ 
ber 8.” 

The little girl who had returned with the spectacles, 
complied. 

“Number 8. I declare, Eben, ain’t it a shame, 
numberin’ these children like they was convicts.” 

"Mister, will you please tell us who employs the 
clerks in this store?” 

“Mr. Lawrence is employment clerk. ” 

1 Do you know if I could get a chance here for my 
niece?" 

“Step right back to the office, madam. Here, num¬ 
ber 17, show this lady and gentleman Mr. Lawrence’s 
office. ” 

He smiled audibly as they followed the girl away. 

This is the office,” said the girl, as she knocked 
on the door. 


THE MAN FROM MACOUPIN 


85 


"Come in. ’ 

The girl opened the door. . Eben and Jane passed 
in, and it was closed behind them. 

Seated at a desk was a sleek looking man of perhaps 
thirty. He had on eyeglasses. His yellowish hair 
was combed straight back from his forehead and parted 
in the middle, and his mustache was not heavy 
enough to hide the gold filling in his front teeth, or 
conceal his thin lips. 

His name was on a tin plate at the end of his desk 
—Uriah Lawrence, appointment clerk. 

He whirled in his chair as the door closed. "Well, 
what do you want?" 

"You see, sir, we’re from Palmyra, in this state. 
This is Eben Linwood. Pm his sister-in-law. Sary, 
my sister, is to home, along with Pearl. Pearl’s my 
niece. A smart, handsome girl, if I do say so. A 
heap purtier than any I seed out there. She’s well 
educated and bright and I thought Pd see if we sent 
her down, if you’d hire her. You have so many wo¬ 
men folks." 

"Country! All country!" thought Lawrence. "How 
old is she?" he asked. 

"She ain’t 17 yet," said Aunt Jane. 

"Is she handsome?" 

"What do you mean by askin’ that question," said 
Eben. 

"Why, you see, Mr. Linwood, a handsome girl will 
sell twice as many goods and consequently command 
a better salary than a homely one. Somehow the cus¬ 
tomers all flock to the counters where we have the 
handsomest clerks. That’s why I asked the question. 
If she’s handsome and quick, I can find room for her." 

"I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’re going home to- 


86 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


morrow, and when we get there I’ll send her photo¬ 
graph. She had some took -last month, and you can 
see for yourself. ” 

“Let her write a few lines and send it herself. Then 
I can see her handwriting. Here’s my card. The 
letter must be directed according to that. Good day." 

“Good day, sir.” 

“Lord a massy, how short these folks in Chicago is. 
They choke you off before you get half through. Now, 

I was goin’ to ask him somethin’ about the wages 
women folks get. ” 

“Oh, they’re all business," said Eben. “Jest like 
a buzz saw, but as you said, they’re all dressed up 
fine. They must get good pay." 

A half hour later our friends entered the hotel, nor 
did they leave it again that day. 

It was 9 o’clock Saturday morning when they en¬ 
tered the chief’s office, and, aside from the chief, his 
secretary and the two officers who had brought Eben’s 
prisoners to headquarters the day before, there was 
present, and sitting near the chief’s desk, and crying 
as if her heart would break, a handsome, blue-eyed 
lass, who must have been near Pearl’s age. 

Are you off for home this morning, Mr. Linwood?” 
“Yes, Chief. We expect to leave on the n: 30 train." 

“That’s sensible. I can telegraph you if anything 
new develops. Here’s that $500. Just sign this re- 
ceipt and it’s yours." 

Eben put on his glasses, bent over the chief’s desk 
and read: 


Received of the Chief of Police of the City of Chi- 
cago, the sum of $ 5 oo. The same being for the can- 
ture of two sneak thieves known to the police depart¬ 
ment as Chicken Williams and Slippery Jack” 


THE MAN FROM MACOUPIN 87 

The smile on Ebens’ face as he signed the receipt 
was one of satisfaction. 

“Here is the money," and the chief placed the bills 
in his hand. 

To the two officers Eben gave $50 each, though both 
they and the chief protested it was not earned by 
them. 

“I should not feel satisfied any other way," Eben 
said. “They might have got away from me. Here, 
Jane,” he added, “here’s the rest." 

“Put it in your inside vest pocket, Eben, an’ keep 
it till we get home. It’s yours, not mine." 

“Have you seen the morning paper, Mr. Linwood? 
If not, you must get one. You are quite a hero." 

“Fer a fact, Chief? I’ll get one. But this poor 
girl seems to be in great trouble." 

“Yes, she’s a Scotch lass. She arrived in Chicago 
two days ago from Edinburgh. Her father left there 
for America when she was but six years of age, leav¬ 
ing her with her grandmother, who died last summer, 
and her father wrote her to come to him. He repre¬ 
sented that he was a man of wealth and lived in Chi¬ 
cago. Hugh McCullam is his name. There are several 
Hugh McCullams in Chicago. All have been seen. 
None were her father." 

"Another case of mystery." 

"Just so. The girl has now spent all of her money, 
and has no home." 

Aunt Jane stepped to the Scotch girl’s side, there 
were tears in her own eyes. “My girl, " she said, don’t 
cry. It takes time, it seems, in Chicago, to solve 
mysteries You are in trouble, so are we. Come home 
with us. Leave all to the chief and to time. The 
streets of a big city are no place for you, without 
iponey." 


88 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“I had thought to find my father. I am alone. All 
alone. ” 

“No, no, my girl. You come right home with us. 
Dry your pretty eyes. Eben Linwood didn’t come to 
town for nothing; if my poor boy’s alive may he find 
such friends as I and mine will be to you. Will you 
go?" 

The young girl arose to her feet, dashed the tears 
from her eyes and her arms found their way around 
Eben’s neck. "God bless you, sir, some day my father 
will be found. And until then—” 

“I’ll stand in his place, dear, as well as I kin.” 

"Maggie McCullam is my name.” 

"Well, come right along Maggie. Dry your eyes. 
Good- bye, Chief. ” 

"God bless you, Eben Linwood, and yours. You 
are deserving of neither trouble or sorrow. You have 
relieved me of a dilemma. I knew not what to do 
with this poor girl. Since you will take her home, 
I shall be troubled on her account no more.” 

After a handshaking all around, Eben and Jane, 
with the girl, departed. They passed the hotel where 
Eben got his valise, and at n :io they were home¬ 
ward bound again. 


CHAPTER VIII 


"you’ve did us proud" 

It was 4 o’clock when the train thundered up in 
front of the little depot at Palmyra. 

"There he is. There he is. ” 

Eben heard the cries on all sides as he was conduct¬ 
ing Maggie and Aunt Jane to the platform, and he 
cast his eyes about to see who the people were allud¬ 
ing to. 

The train made a momentary stop and thundered 
on. 

As it did so a citizen of Palmyra mounted the plat¬ 
form, hat in hand. 

"Gentlemen, I propose three cheers for Eben Lin- 
wood. He has did us proud. Hip—hip—hip—Hur¬ 
rah!” 

They were given with a will, and it seemed that 
half the town were surging around Eben and his com¬ 
panion. 

"Hurrah for Linwood!” 

"Give us your hand, Eben," said Squire Ross, com¬ 
ing forward. "You’ve given Palmyra a real boom. 
You’re an honor to old Macoupin county." 

"Hurrah for Eben Linwood!" 

“Your hand, Eben! Your hand," shouted a dozen 
voices. 

Eben’s first thought was about Maggie McCullam. 
The people were proud of him for bringing home a 
homeless girl. But how did they know about it? 

89 


go 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


''Neighbors,” he said, *1 couldn’t leave the girl 
there. Any on you that had a heart would a done the 
same. ” 

“Bless your soul, Eben, tain’t ’bout the girl, but 
what about Harry?” 

“I didn’t see him,” said Eben. “He’s missin’, but 
I think he’ll come out all right. There’s a mystery 
about it that can’t be fathomed. > But the Chief of 
Police of Chicago has got the case. If Harry’s alive 
he’ll find him. There’s nothin’ in the suicide theory. 
But if taint the girl, what was you all cheerin’ ’bout? 
Did you think I had Harry?" 

“Bless you, no, Eben. Ain’t you seen the mornin’ 
paper." 

“Paper! no.” 

“Men, he ain’t even seen the paper. He don’t know 
how famous he is. We got the papers early this morn¬ 
ing, Eben, and we’re all proud on you. Now, citi¬ 
zens, keep quiet, an’ I’ll read loud so’s you can all 
hear what we’re so proud of,” and Squire Ross read 
as follows: 

Terrific encounter of a Macoupin county farmer, 
with two desperate characters, for whose capture a 
reward of $500 has long been offered. The despera¬ 
does clearly mistake their man when they tackle Eben 
Linwood, Esq., of Macoupin. 

Mr. Linwood is in the city with his sister-in law 
searching for some knowledge of the whereabouts of 
his son Harry, whose disappearance was chronicled in 
this paper a few days since. 

The desperadoes, seeing him and his sister-in-law 
on the corner of Madison and State streets on yester¬ 
day, doubtless recognized that they were from the 
rural districts, and took them for a soft mark. 

WOEFUL MISTAKE 

They first insulted Miss Walker, who was Mr. Lin* 


Hurrah for Eben Lin wood I 


Girl from Macoupin, p, 01. 

















































































“you’ve did us proud” 


93 


wood’s companion, and who from the general appear¬ 
ance of the thief, who was rigged out in stolen clothes, 
she thought might be her nephew. 

Mr. Linwood quickly resented the insults, when 
one of them slapped him in the face. 

The old gentleman’s dander was up. He seized the 
ruffian by the neck with both hands, and nearly shook 
the life out of him. Several times he dashed his head 
against a lamp post, and when he loosened him the 
desperado fell, a senseless heap, to the ground. 

At that point the other ruffian rushed to the en¬ 
counter. 

The grand old man, whose hair is already streaked 
with gray, took off his coat and threw it into the hands 
of Miss Walker. He was struck once by his dastardly 
assailant. He clenched with the thief. Both stumbled 
over the prostrate form of the first ruffian down, but 
Macoupin county was on top, and with terrific force 
he drove the head of villain number two against the 
stone pavement, rendering him unconscious. The 
farmer gazed at his victims, then put on his coat, and 
would have taken them to the station alone, but at 
this juncture two policemen arrived on the scene, and 
assisted him. 

Mr. Linwood will receive the $500 he so well mer¬ 
its. 

Our officers may well take a lesson from this fearless 
man. 

Macoupin county may well be proud of him. 

That he may soon have his son restored to him must 
be the wish of all our citizens. Chicken Williams 
and Slippery Jack are the cognomens that the two des¬ 
peradoes are known by. 

“This, Mr. Linwood, is why we are proud of you.” 

“Hurrah for Eben Linwood!" 

“Speech! Speech! Speech!" 

“Order, gentlemen! I say, Mr. Linwood, that we 
are proud that a citizen of Macoupin has made a rec¬ 
ord that adds to the luster of her name. Fellow citi- 


94 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


zens, I introduce Mr. Linwood. Eben, you must say 
somethin’ to ’em. ” 

“Linwood! Linwood!” 

“Squire,” said Ebsn, “I don’t know what to say, 
but Ill say somethin’. I had no idee ’twas that." 

Eben stepped to the edge of the platform and a 
shout went up from the sea of upturned faces. Even 
Joel Bland was there and his nephew was on the plat¬ 
form, standing right behind Eben, and talking with 
Aunt Jane. 

“My friends, you know I ain’t no speaker. If I was 
I’d tell you all about this matter. As it is, I can only 
say, that I captured the two thieves purty much as 
the paper states. I was skeered I’d killed one on ’em. 
Aunt Jane here did half on it. Because, if she hadn’t 
spoke to the ruffian, mebby the ruffian wouldn’t have 
insulted her, and I wouldn’t have had to sail in. If 
what I did was right ’cordin’ to your idee, I’m glad 
I did it. In regard to my troubles ’bout Harry, I ain’t 
out of ’em yet But I’ve got hopes. Now, I’ve 
brought home a young lady who’s goin’ home with us 
and you’ll have to excuse me. ” 

“Hurrah for Eben Linwood!” 

“Hurrah for Aunt Jane!” 

“Mr. Linwood, you didn’t have to telegraph. " 

‘ No, Mark. No. We had to leave the case with 
the chief. I know him, Mark. He’ll do all he can. 
If my boy want murdered he’ll find him. Miss Mc- 
Cullam, Mr Ellis. Miss Maggie’s goin’ home with 11s 
I wonder can we all three ride in my buggy? Have 
you been over to Linwood, Mark?” 

“Yes, Mr. Linwood, I have spent two evenings there. 

I was there last night. I told them we’d be apt to 
hear from you to-day, and promised to drive over this 


“you’ve did us proud” 


95 


evening. I will get uncle’s horse and buggy and drive 
Miss Maggie over. Your horse is at the hotel barn.” 

‘‘Oh, I guess my buggy’ll hold all three on us. I 
don’t like to trouble you too much, Mark.” 

“No trouble, Mr Linwood. I was going back that 
way, even if you had’nt have come." Mark well might 
have added, “I am glad of any excuse that will enable 
me to gaze again at the features of the girl I love." 

"See if you can get a paper anywhere, Mark, that’s 
got the account of my capturing the thieves. I must 
have one to take home. I swan Sarah won’t hardly 
believe me.” 

"I have one of the papers in my pocket, Mr. Lin- 
wood.” 

“Well, I’ll go right over with the women folks and 
get my rig. If you’ll bring one on ’em along for me, 
drive over; I’ll wait for you." 

At the hotel all were talking about Eben’s exploit 
in Chicago. 

Landlord Borden utterly refused to accept payment 
for the care of the horse and buggy left in his charge. 

"It’s an honor, Eben, to have had that there horse 
in my barn, while you was capturing Chicago’s des¬ 
peradoes. I’m mighty sorry you didn’t hear nothin’ 
from Harry, but you made a heap of friends in the 
city. I reckon they’ll find the boy if he ain’t dead.” 

Eben’s horse was soon brought up in front of the 
door. 

‘‘Now, I’ll take one on you, and Mark’ll take tother 
one.” 

The Scotch lass looked into the farmer’s eyes and 
her hand was laid on his arm. 

"I see, my girl,” Eben said, "that you want to stick 
to the old man. Well, Jane, you as well ride with 
Mark.” 


9 6 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


‘‘Yes, Eben, it'll give me a chance to talk to the 
boy.” 

Eben assisted Maggie to a seat in his buggy as Mark 
drove up, and the two buggies with their occupants 
were soon speeding toward Linwood. 

Night was falling as they drove up the lane, but 
Pearl who was looking from a window in anticipation 
of the arrival of Mark exclaimed: “Mother here come 
two buggies. Father must have found Harry. He 
must be in one of them. I see two figures in each.” 

They both rushed out the door as the buggies drew 
up. 

“Harry! Harry! My boy.” 

“Ain’t found him yet, mother. But keep up heart. 
I've got the whole city police department on my side, 
and if he’s alive he’ll be found. We’ve got things 
movin’, hain’t we, Jane?” 

“Yes, Sarry, we have for a fact. I believe it won’t 
be long till we have found the boy.” 

Eben clambered from his buggy and embraced his 
wife and daughter. “Mother, I’ve brought you an¬ 
other daughter; a Scotch lass that I found in trouble. 
I’ll tell you about it by and by. Our boy may be in 
trouble. As we befriend this lass may some one be¬ 
friend him. Maggie, this is my wife, and this, my 
daughter Pearl, nigh about your age, I reckon." 

Tears were trickling down Maggie’s face as Eben 
lifted her from the buggy. 

“Don’t cry, dear, don’t cry. You’ve come to cheer 
our hearts in my boy’s stead, until his return,” and 
Sarah Linwood’s arms were around Maggie’s form. 
“I have two daughters now. Pearl, you have ever 
wished a sister, you have one now.” 

"Dear Maggie, do not cry," said Pearl. 


'‘you've did us proud" 


97 


It is not altogether from sorrow Pearl. I hope 
some day to find my father. It is from happiness that 
I have found such friends.” 

“Good evening, Mr. Ellis. Father, you owe Mr. 
Ellis thanks. He has done nearly all of your work 
since you have been away.” 

“God bless the lad! Now you women folks go in. 
Won’t you stay a while, Mark, and put up your 
horse?” 

“Just long enough to help you with your work to¬ 
night. It’s getting late.” 

The farmer carried the milk pails to the barn with 
him and when they returned to the house, supper was 
ready. 

Maggie, in her Scotch plaid and with her dimpled 
cheeks and curly hair had won all hearts. 

“Trust in the Lord, child, ” Sarah had said, just as 
Eben entered the door, “and if your father has aban¬ 
doned you, you have found another and a mother too. ” 

“Yes, and a sister,” said Pearl. 

“Oh, he has not done that {’’exclaimed Maggie, “but 
there is something wrong. He may be dead.” 

Sarah was caressing her when Eben set down his 
milk pails: “Pm mighty glad I brought her,” he 
thought; “comforting the poor girl will help Sarah 
forget her troubles for a time.” 

When all were seated at the table and Eben had 
asked the blessing, Aunt Jane said: “Now, Mark, I 
ain’t said a word yet; but while Eben’s waitin’ on 
the table, will you jest read that advertisement of ourn 
out loud?” 

Mark produced the paper and commenced reading 
the article. Sarah was turning out the tea but she soon 
ceased and her eyes were shooting from the reader to 

The Girl from Macoupin 7 


9 8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUJIN 


Aunt Jane, from Aunt Jane to Eben, and then back 
again to the reader. 

“Eben!” she cried, as Mark concluded the article, 
“I didn’t think it was in you. I can see now, that if 
Harry’s in Chicago, they’ll find him for you. Maggie 
has told me about losing her grandmother and how 
you found her in the police office. I’m proud of you, 
Eben. Prouder than I was when you was a young 
man. Prouder than as if you had the wealth of Joel 
Bland and not a mortgaged home, for if you had Joel’s 
wealth you might have his—I beg your pardon Mark. 
I didn’t think about Joel bein’ your uncle.” 

“That should make no difference, Mrs. Linwood. 
You would have added that your husband with his 
wealth might have had his miserly disposition. In 
which event he would not have brought home ki ss 
Maggie. But I think wealth will never harden the 
heart of Mr. Linwood.” 

“It don’t ’pear like it would now,” said Eben with 
a laugh. 

“It couldn’t, Mr. Linwood. Nothing could make 
you miserly.” 

“I’m mightily ’fraid Mark. I’ll learn to be before I 
get that mortgage paid. ” 

Not until Mark had taken his departure did Aunt 
Jane speak of their visit to the department store. 

“You know Pearl was speakin’ ’bout there havin’ 
women folks clerkin’ there. The clerks is mighty 
nigh all women. Ain’t they, Eben?” 

“It seems so. ” 

‘ Well, you know, the chief said that if there was 
some other young person that belonged in the family 
who could get work in the city and remain there, if 
Harry was in the city some day they would run up with 


“you've did us proud" 


99 


him. Now if he’s in the city he’s been unfortunate and 
lost that money and his pride won’t let him make it 
known. I thought now in case Pearl should come 
to town to look for work it’s well to see if she could 
get it. Well she can. The man what hires the clerks 
in the very store where I got them glasses, Sary, where 
they sell everything from a spool of thread to a hay 
mow, told Eben and I both that he’d hire her if she 
was good-looking and quick—she’s both.” 

"Oh, Aunt Jane.” 

"Well, Pearl, you be. You know you be.” 

"Of course she is,” said Eben. 

"What made him say that if she was good-lookin’?” 
asked Sarah. 

"You see, he says that the good-lookin’ clerks sell 
the most goods. That the most of the customers go 
to their counters. ” 

"I don’t understand that,” said Sarah. "I should 
suppose those that have to go to the counters would 
go where they sold the goods they wanted to buy.” 

"Well, the man said that it was so and I told him 
that Pearl was a heap better lookin’ than any girl he 
had in the store.” 

"Why, Aunt Jane.” 

"Well, it’s so Pearl. Ain’t it Eben?” 

"Yes, but I didn’t mean to tell Pearl fer fear it’d 
make her proud. ” 

"Weil the man said if Pearl would send her photo¬ 
graph and a sample of her handwritin’, he’d answer and 
let her know if there was a chance for her. I most 
know he’ll take her.” 

"Oh I can never suffer Pearl to go from me. I 
couldn’t bear it,” said Sarah. "And my boy gone 

too. ” 


lOO 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“It ’pears like I couldn’t either mother.” 

“Well,” said Jane "you know what the chief said. 
A thousand perlice might see the boy and none of 
’em would know him. Pearl bein’ in a big store like 
that and on the principal street of the city, might run 
on him some day. It’s on the boy’s account.” 

“And then, mother, you know I want to do some¬ 
thing to help father pay off the mortgage.” 

“Your home mortgaged? You in such distress?” 
said Maggie, “and yet you brought me to add to your 
troubles? I too must seek work." 

“You’ll help us forget some of our troubles, Mag¬ 
gie. You are not yet acquainted with the ways of 
America. With Pearl it is different. Besides, were 
she gone you would be here to take her place. You 
would not be idle. There’s the chickens to feed, the 
churning to do, the paper to read to father and the 
rest on us. Oh, if ’twant fer your bein’ here, Pearl 
couldn’t go no how. And then, she might do some 
thin’ agin she got acquainted, ’bout findin’your father, 
if you have his pictur." 

“Yes, I have it, but it was taken many years ago. 
I doubt if I would know my father, now.” 

"Aunt Jane, did you get the man’s address, who 
wanted my photograph?" 

“Yes, Pearl. Eben it’s in your vest pocket.” 

“Here ’tis. Uriah Lawrence, Employment Clerk 
N. — State St.” 

"I don’t like that name Jane." 

“Horrible!” said Pearl. 

“He was a mighty sleek lookin’ fellow Sary.’’ 

“What pay do their girls get.” 

“I declare we didn’t have time to inquire. You see 
everybody’s all business in Chicago, but the girls are 
all dressed well, and they must get good pay." 


“you’ve did us proud” 


IOI 


“Well, papa I shall write and send my photograph 
to-morrow, and we’ll see what the result is.” 

“Well there’s no harm going that far.” 

“But, father, I must go further. Just think, and you, 
mother of what the chief said, by being there I might 
be the means of restoring Harry to you.” 

Eben and Jane were tired out and it was at rather 
an early hour that the family retired. 

“Good night, my dear father," said Pearl as with her 
arms about Maggie’s waist the two girls were leaving 
the room. 

“Good-night my daughters. Both of you.” 

Though the house was soon after in darkness, and 
some of its inmates were soundly asleep, yet it was at 
a late hour before Pearl closed her eyes. She was 
thinking of the prospect before her for helping her 
father. Of how she might aid in discovering her 
brother. Of how fortunate that Maggie, who was sleep 
ing by her side, had come into their home and of the 
letter she would write to Uriah Lawrence, the appoint¬ 
ment clerk. 


CHAPTER X 


PEARL IN A DEPARTMENT STORE 

The next day was the Sabbath, and at an early hour 
the farmer drove the old-fashioned carriage up to the 
front door, and the family, with the exception of Aunt 
Jane, departed for the crossroads church some two 
miles away. 

Eben found that he attracted much more attention 
than did the preacher. 

Elder Sneed was the first one he encountered. He 
congratulated him on having made a record. "Pm 
proud on you, Eben. Proud on you, an’ so’s the 
whole congregation. All’s talkin’ about you. You’ve 
made a record, man. A record, and Aunt Jane was 
with you? I declare, I must come over and see her." 

Inside the church all eyes seemed turned toward the 
little pew, where the farmer and his family were seated, 
and after the services were over many flocked around 
him to hear from his lips of his wondrous adventure. 

"I declare, mother,” he said when they were on the 
way home, "I had no idee that a little thing like that 
would ’tract so much attention.” 

"’Twant no small thing, Eben. ’Twant no small 
thing, or they wouldn’t had it in the papers.” 

Monday morning Pearl sent a letter to the postoffice 
addressed to Uriah Lawrence, Esq., and her photo¬ 
graph was enclosed. 


102 




PEARL in a department STORE 


103 


The letter she read at the breakfast-table. It was 
as follows: 

"Uriah Lawrence, Esq. Appointment clerk. Dear 
sir: —My father and aunt called on you Friday last. You 
were so kind as to state to them that you might be 
able to give me employment. I understand that you 
can better judge as to whether I would be apt to prove 
successful by viewing my photograph and writing. I 
write this note enclosing the photo. Should you not 
desire to employ me, please return the photo. 

Very respectfully, Pearl Linwood." 

Thursday’s mail brought Pearl the following reply: 

"Miss Linwood:— Your letter and photo duly re¬ 
ceived. Both are entirely satisfactory. If you can 
come at once I can find a place for you. I know of 
a nice place where you can room and board. With 
regards to your father and aunt, 

Very truly, Uriah Lawrence.” 

"There, father,” said Pearl, when she had read the 
letter aloud, "I have found a place. You know how 
much it may mean, and must not find objections. 
Some member of the family should remain in Chicago 
until Harry is found. None other than I can, nor 
could I bear to leave you, but for Maggie’s being here 
to fill my place. ” 

"It really seems for the best,” said Aunt Jane. 

"Yes, on the boy’s account I reckon Pearl best go 
but I shall miss her mightily.” 

"On my boy’s account I must yield,” said Sarah. 

So it was that the next morning the household was 
early astir and at 4 o’clock Eben and his daughter 
were at the depot in Palmyra. 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


104 


“Remember now, Pearl” said Eben “if you’re in any 
trouble go right to the Chief of Police and tell him 
you’re Eben Linwood’s daughter and if all don’t go 
well, come straight home. Now, here’s your ticket 
and here’s $ 20. You probably won’t get much wages 
for the first two or three weeks, till you get the run of 
things. Then you’ll do better. If it’s too hard, I 
want you to come home. Remember your father and 
mother. Our hearts would be broke if any harm 
should come to you. I guess that there Lawrence is 
all right. He looks sleek enough. Hanged if he didn’t 
look almost too sleek to my eye. But, then he’s the 
employment clerk. He’s the one you’ll have to deal 
with and as he’s got a place for you to room and 
board, I judge you had best go right there. You can 
tell more about it when you get there. If you are sick 
or anything happens that you are in need, write us 
about it at once. There, child, you’ve got the card. 
Remember all I’ve told you. Here comes the train. 
Good-bye. God bless you, my little girl. If you 
don’t feel like goin’ right now, don’t go,” 

“It’s my duty, father. I must go.” 

“P’raps you’re right. Good-bye,” and for a moment 
the old man clasped his daughter in his arms. 

“Good-bye, dear father." 

The train thundered up to the depot. 

“Good-bye, child, good-bye." 

“Father, remember me to Mark, and tell him good¬ 
bye for me." 

“I will, Pearl, I will." 

Eben stepped from the platform of the car. There 
was a shrill whistle, and Pearl with tears in her eyes 
was en route for Chicago, while Eben, with a sad 
heart, was alone en route for Linwood. 


PEARL IN A DEPARTMENT STORE IO5 

It was 10 o’clock when Pearl entered the door of 
the State street store. 

Her trunk, which her father had brought from Lin- 
wood strapped on behind the buggy and checked for her, 
she left at the depot. She had the cheek in her hand¬ 
bag. 

She was accosted, as she advanced down an aisle by 
the floorwalker who had directed Aunt Jane and her 
father. 

"What department do you desire, miss?" 

"I wish to see Mr. Lawrence, sir." 

“No. 13 take the young lady to Mr. Lawrence’s 
door." 

A young girl of 12 years of age accompanied her. 

"Are you coming here to work, Miss?” she asked. 

"I think so,” replied Pearl. 

"Oh I’m so sorry,” the girl said. 

"Why?” said Pearl, “why should you regret that I 
have found work?” 

"’Taint that, miss, ’taint that. But you’re too pretty 
for Chicago stores. Leastwise these big ones. ” 

“Toq pretty" said Pearl eyeing her young attendant 
curiously. 

"Yes, too rosy and fresh, they call it. You look like 
you come from the country. ” 

"I did. But what do you mean?” 

"We’re here now I can’t tell you. But you’ll learn 
Don’t tell what I said. I may tell you more,’’and she 
knocked on the door. 

"Come in.” 

Pearl entered the door and sew seated before her at 
his desk, the employment clerk. 

"Please, sir, are you Mr. Lawrence?" she asked 

"Yes, young lady, I am Mr. Lawrence”, 


io6 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“I am Pearl Linwood from Palmyra.” 

"Pearl Linwood from Palmyra?” Lawrence repeated 
the words after her,eyeing her closely. 

"Yes, I am the young lady that wrote and sent the 
photograph. ” 

"Oh, I have many of those.” 

"But you remember my father and Aunt Jane?” 

"Palmyra? Pearl Linwood? Let me see.” Uriah 
pulled back a drawer from his desk and took there¬ 
from a dozen or two photographs of young girls. He 
glanced them over one by one, until he came to Pearl’s. 

"Yes, I wrote you that if you came at once I could 
find you a place. You are a very pretty girl, Pear 1 . 
A handsome girl. I see you’ll have a big trade at the 
counter I place you at. Here take this seat,” and he 
pulled a chair up to the corner of the desk. 

"My, what red cheeks!” and as she took the seat he 
pinched one of them with the thumb and forefinger of 
his right hand. 

Pearl hastily pulled her chair further from his desk, 
and her face reddened more at his familiarity. 

"Don’t get flurried, dear. You’ll have many praises 
for your red cheeks here. But if any get too familiar, 
just report to me. Did you ever have any experience 
as a saleslady?” 

"I have not," said Pearl, who almost began to wish 
herself home. 

"Oh, well. With your handsome face—you’re a 
little beauty. You know you are.” 

"I don’t wish you to talk to me in that manner, sir.” 

Oh, don’t mind me. As 1 was saying, with your 
handsome face you don’t need much knowledge of the 
trade. You’ll catch customers fast enough. The only 
trouble is that you’ll catch too many that will prove 


PEARL IN A DEPARTMENT STORE I O'/ 

troublesome. You’ll have too many chronic custo¬ 
mers. ” 

“Chronic customers?” 

“Yes. What I term chronic customers. Young 
bloods and old ones too, that get captivated by a 
pretty face, and are on hand every day or so, seeking 
to make an impression But every time they come 
they spend money. You have to treat them to a few 
smiles and not get insulted at their remarks. Oh 
you’ll come on famously. Let’s see. I wrote you that 
I had a place for you to room and board.” 

“Yes sir. ” 

"It’s over on the West Side. A place I think that 
will suit you. Ten or twelve of the girls board there 
I will take you to your department and have you 
posted on prices until noon, when I will call for you, 
to take lunch with me to-day, and to-night I’ll go 
over to your boarding-house with you.” 

“My trunk, sir, is at the depot.” 

“Well, give me your check. I’ll send one of our driv¬ 
ers for it. and have it delivered at the boarding-house. 
That way it will cost you nothing. Now I’m going to 
place you in a department where you won’t have much 
walking to do. Come. ” 

They passed from the office out into the busy store. 
There were naught but counters on all sides, and back 
of each one, one or more salesgirls and shelves of 
goods. Many they passed, and, finally, before a counter 
well down in the southwestern portion of the building 
they halted. 

“Here Miss Linwood is your department. Gent’s 
neckwear, collars, ties, also a line of handkerchiefs and 
white shirts; Miss Ford, this is Miss Linwood, who 
WlU take the place of Miss Parker who has been dis- 


io8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


charged. You will post her on prices, though I sup¬ 
pose everything is marked.” 

Pearl extended her hand to a young woman of ap¬ 
parently twenty years of age. 

"At half after 12, Miss Linwood,” and Uriah went 
back to his office. 

Pearl removed her cloak and hood. 

"You can put your things with mine if you choose,” 
said Miss Ford. “Here.” And she unlocked a drawer 
such as is beneath each counter for the wardrobe of 
those who worked behind it, and drew it back. 

Pearl deposited her wraps, and until noon Miss 
Ford posted her on prices. 

“Have you been here long, Miss Ford?” 

“Please do not call me Miss Ford. Pm Annie. Yes 
Pve been here six years, in different departments. 
When I first came I was in the basement, in the tin¬ 
ware department. Then 1 was changed to the sta¬ 
tionery department, and for two years I have been be¬ 
hind this counter. This will be your first experience, 
I judge.” 

“Yes, I never was from home before." 

“Oh, Kate!" 

“What is it, Annie?” said the girl from the next 
counter. 

“Pve got a tenderfoot as a companion at my counter. ” 

"Another victim,” said Kate, stepping up to the bar 
between the counters. 

“Miss Pearl Linwood, Miss Kate Foster.” 

The two girls shook hands. 

"They have started you in with full blown honors, 
Miss Pearl.” 

“Oh don’t ‘Miss Kate’me. Just Kate is enough. 
We lose the title of Miss when we enter a department 


pearl m a department store 109 

store. So, Pearl I’ll tell you why. They generally 
start the new girls in the basement, or some less prom¬ 
inent department. It’s your handsome face and figure 
that’s got you here. Uriah thinks your pretty face will 
draw trade to the counter. It will, too, but look out, 
look out. But pshaw. There’s no use of talking. It’s 
a pity though.” 

“What is it, Kate, since I may drop the Miss?” 

“Oh you’ll find out. A pity you had to come here.” 

“Pray tell me why?” 

“We ain’t allowed to talk much with each other 
during business hours, but you’ll have to submit to a 
great deal if you stay, and if you don’t submit to it 
you can’t stay, so there you are.” 

“Submit to what?” 

“Oh, insults we called them when we first started in. 
But we’re hardened to it now. There ! There’s your 
first customer. A dude.” 

A young fellow, very flashily dressed stepped up to 
the counter, and though Annie Ford stepped forward 
he passed her and halted before Pearl. 

“Ah, Miss, will you show me some handkerchiefs? 
Something fine, you know. Something that will do 
for the ‘profesh’. ” 

“‘Profesh’!” repeated Pearl. 

“Yes, sweet creature, the ‘profesh,’ don’t you know? 
The theatrical profesh.” 

Pearl’s face turned crimson with indignation. 

“You’re just about a supe in the company,” said 
Annie coming forward, opening a show case, and plac¬ 
ing half a dozen boxes of handkerchiefs on the coun¬ 
ter. 

“Don’t you know, if I had wanted you to wait on 
me I’d have called on you. You ain’t half as hand¬ 
some as this fair creature.” 


no 


THE girl from magouti tf 


“She has not learned the prices yet.” 

“Oh, a new clerk. By Jove. And from the country, 
I’ll bet. I shall become—let’s see, these girls would 
say—your chronic customer. I shall indeed. I shall 
take you to the theater.” 

“I don’t think you will,” said Pearl. “I’ll not go 
with you.” 

“Oh, you will after a little. But what are these 
handkerchiefs in this box?” 

“They are marked 50 cents each.” 

“Sweet girl, give me six of them.” 

The man of the “profesh” laid a $5 bill on the 
table. 

Pearl made out her check and rang the bell for a 
cash girl. 

The girl dashed away with the handkerchiefs and 
bill, but soon returned with them and the $2 change. 

“Pretty,” said Mr. Profesh, "you’re just from home, 
and just starting. Perhaps you might need a little 
money, until you have been here a few weeks. Keep 
the $2 and if you need more, let me know when I 
come in.” 

“I need no favors from you, sir,” said Pearl, and 
she turned quickly away from her customer. 

“You may,” he said, “I spend my money here. I 
won’t be insulted,” and he hastened away. 

“I wish he had offered me that $2 ,” said Kate, who 
had been watching. 

“You certainly would not have taken it?” said Pearl. 

“I certainly would. And instanter, and you ought 
to see the dinner I’d have Sunday. Oh, when I came 
to the store I would have no sooner taken it than you, 
but let them try me now. I’ll take all they give me 
and laugh at them.” 


Marl in a department storR 


lit 


“Why, Kate.” 

“Why not? Suppose you had not had money to pay 
for a week’s lodging or board, and had taken that 
dude’s $2. Perhaps next week you’d have taken more. 
He would have surely offered it. Then in another 
week he would have invited you out to the theater 
some evening. Of course you’d have felt that you 
couldn’t refuse. He’d have invited you to an oyster 
supper. A bottle of wine would be called for; Maybe 
you’d drink the wine. Maybe you wouldn’t. Next, 
he’d carry you home. Then he’d commence to call. 
He’d think he had a mortgage on you. Some time ? 
when you was out with him, you’d drink too much 
wine. Maybe there’d be drugs in it. When you woke 
up in the morning you wouldn’t be in your own room. 
You’d be in a down-town rooming house where no 
questions are asked. You wouldn’t be alone. What 
would be the result? 

“Thereafter you would not depend solely on the 
pittance of wages you receive here for a livelihood, or, 
perchance, you’d seek to hide your shame in the lake, 
as others have done. Perhaps,—but here you have an¬ 
other customer." 

Pearl turned to find a middle-aged man gazing in¬ 
tently at her. 

“Will you show me these scarfs in this case?”he asked. 

“Certainly,” said Pearl, although the words of Kate 
had nearly deprived her of the power of utterance, and 
she placed several varieties on the counter. 

“This wi 11 suit. ” 

“A dollar and a half,” said Pearl. 

He handed her a $2 bill, and while the cash girl 
was gone, remarked: “You have not been in the city 
long, have you?” 

“Only since this morning,” replied Pearl. 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


i I'l 


“I thought so,” he said, his eyes devouring hef 
face. “Can you use a typewriter?” 

“I cannot,” she replied. 

“I want a young lady typewriter. I will pay better 
wages than you can possibly get here. Here is my 
card. If you will come to me I will have you taught 
typewriting and will give you employment.” 

“I have an engagement here, thank you.” 

“Keep the card. You may wish to change. I will 
treat you as a loved daughter.” 

“That’s another style, but on the same order,” said 
Kate as she turned away. “That same man got Rose 
Martin to leave here and come to his office to learn 
typewriting. The old money bags insulted her before 
she’d been there two days, so grossly that she left, 
and she had a hard time. It was the cause of her 
ruin. Uriah wouldn’t take her back, winter was at 
hand, she couldn’t get work, and embarked on a life 
of shame. Lord, but she dresses now. I’ll point her 
out to you; but here comes Uriah. He’s the biggest 
wolf of the lot.” 

“Why it’s half after 12. He has my check. I was 
to go out with him at noon.” 

“Go out with Uriah? Be careful. But you must go. 
You can’t afford to offend him. Have you a boarding 
place?” 

“Mr. Lawrence has one engaged for me.” 

“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed both girls. 

At this moment Uriah came up. He glanced at the 
face of his watch. “Come, Miss Pearl.” 

Pearl put on her cloak and they left the store to¬ 
gether. 

“Poor girl,” said Kate. "Annie, let’s keep an eye on 
her?” 

“Agreed,’’said Annie 


CHAPTER X 


“prudes don’t succeed as clerks" 

When Uriah and Pearl had got on the street: “Take 
my arm, Miss Pearl," he said, “or we may get sepa¬ 
rated in this throng of people." 

Pearl could not but comply, and they soon entered 
the door of a State street restaurant, where Uriah 
conducted her to a private compartment. 

“Pearl,” he said, “I am going to do away with the 
Miss in the future, there is a bill of fare. Order what 
you please. I am going to be your particular friend, 
and I want you to be very good to me. Waiter,” he 
continued, “bring me roast beef rare, and a good din¬ 
ner generally. Shall I give your order, Pearl?" 

“If it pleases you. I do not desire much." 

“Not much? And left home before daylight ? Do you 
like rare beef, Pearl?" 

“No, sir.” 

“Chicken pie, and side dishes. There, will that suit 
you?” 

“Entirely, sir. You are ordering too expensive a 
dish, I fear.” 

"Oh, you’re dining with me, to-day,’’ 

The dishes named were soon placed before them. 

“Now, waiter, a couple of bottles of beer.” 

“I never drank beer in my life, Mr. Lawrence. I 
do not wish it." 

113 

The Girl from Macoupin 8 


114 


THE GIRL FROM MACOtrPiN 


“Two bottles of beer, waiter. Pearl, I know what 
is good for you after your tiresome journey. You look 
tired. A glass of beer will invigorate you, or do you 
prefer wine?” 

“Neither, sir. Neither.” 

“You have drunk wine?" 

“Never. More than currant wine at home. ” 

“Currant wine? Oh, yes, sherry.” 

Here the waiter set down the two bottles of beer. 

“A glass of sherry wine, waiter. ” 

It was soon brought. 

“Your trunk I had sent to your boarding-house. 
Have you made your first sale yet?” 

“Oh, yes.” And Pearl told of having made her first 
sale, and of the young man's conduct. 

“Good! If that chap hadn’t seen your pretty 
face at the counter, the chances are he’d not have 
stopped. Certainly he’d not have invested $3. As 
for his remarks, they didn’t hurt you. You’ll learn to 
laugh at them, and to tell the truth, Pearl, he didn’t 
lie to you. You are perfectly lovely. You are the 
handsomest girl in the store.” 

“Please don’t talk to me in that way, sir.” 

“Drink your wine, Pearl, if you have finished, and 
we will return to the store. I will call for you at 
four o’clock and take you to your boarding house.” 

“I don’t care for the wine, sir.” 

“Why, see, I have drunk both bottles of beer. I 
shall be offended if you don’t drink the sherry. It is 
but currant wine. I shall have to pay for it. You 
can surely do that to oblige me." 

Pearl thought of it as but currant wine. "Surely, 

I can drink part of it,” and she hastily did so. 

A look of triumph stole into Uriah’s eyes. Come, 
let’s go,” he said, and they returned to the store. 



Pearl thought of it as but currant wine. 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 115. 


















































































































































































“PRUDES DON’T SUCCEED AS CLERKS 1 




117 


Kate and Annie had just finished their lunch. 

Uriah passed on in the direction of his office. 

“Oh, girls, do you bring your lunch?” 

"If we didn’t," said Kate, “we’d have a poor pros¬ 
pect of getting any. I suppose you had a dinner with 
old Slick?" 

“Is that your name for Mr. Lawrence?" 

"Oh, we’ve got all kinds of names for Uriah, haven’t 
we, Annie?” 

“I should say we had. But what did you have for 
dinner, Pearl?” 

“Chicken pie.” 

“Chicken pie?” The two girls nearly cried it aloud. 

“Oh, Uriah, Uriah!” said Kate, “why didst thou 
leave us behind. Why has our beauty faded?” 

“Now, girls,” said Pearl, “don’t, please don’t." 

“Well, we won’t. But the thought of chicken pie 
nearly crushed us, though we had an unusually good 
lunch to-day.” 

“What did you have, girls?” 

“Two slices of bread and butterine. ” 

“Butterine?" exclaimed Pearl. 

“Yes, you’re from the country and you don’t know. 
But butterine is butter made without the help of a 
cow. Savvy? When butter is 40 cents a pound, butter¬ 
ine is 20, and it is just as healthy. Well, two slices 
of bread and butterine, a cucumber pickle, a dried 
herring, and a pop bottle of coffee each. And to-day, 
we had two bananas.” 

‘Not a very elaborate lunch.” 

“Well, it was rather above the average.” 

“You see,” said Annie, “the salaries of female clerks 
won’t provide a diet that is liable to produce gout. " 
“Do you both live together?" asked Pearl, 


Il8 THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 

“Yes, four of us live in two rooms on Monroe street. 
Kate and I, Jennie Wilson from the hosiery depart¬ 
ment, and Eva Lane.” 

“A merry crowd.” 

“Oh, yes. We pay $12 a month for our two rooms. 
We have two beds in one and a small cook stove in 
the other. You see that room is kitchen, dining 
room and parlor.” 

“Oh, ’’said Kate, "we don’t live high, but then, we 
are independent, just the same.” 

“I wish my lot was cast with yours.” 

“Oh, well. If Uriah has got a place selected for 
you, you must go there. He is the power behind the 
throne. He does all the employing, and all the dis¬ 
charging. Keep on the right side of Uriah, for it 
means much, but don’t let him go too far. Here 
comes customers. ” And for a surety the evening trade 
had set in. The girls all had their hands full. 

Pearl had all she could do to wait on the customeis 
that approached her, nearly all being, of course, of the 
masculine gender, as her line was entirely of the class 
of goods they would naturally purchase. 

Many customers she had during the day, who made 
remarks that were very unpleasant to her ears. 

One gentleman, no, man, individual, remarked, on 
paying his bill, “There’s a dollar coming to me sweet¬ 
heart. If you will give me a kiss you can keep it.” 
Several invitations she received to attend theaters, 
from men she had never seen before they patronized 
her at her counter. 

Certainly she declined them all, and without return¬ 
ing thanks for the invitation extended. 

The climax was reached about half after three, when 
a middle-aged man, who had purchased a box of col¬ 
lars said; 


<l PRUDES DON’T SUCCEED AS CLERKS 


"Miss, this is no place for you. I see you are not 
of Chicago. If you’ll walk right out of this store now, 
before you’ve got the ways of these shop girls, I'll 
marry you. ” 

"Your kindness," said Pearl, “overpowers me, but 
I couldn’t think of it." 

“A month from now I wouldn’t have you," contin¬ 
ued the man, and he turned on his heel and walked 
off. 

That man meant what he said. 

Not only had he fallen in love with PearPs pretty 
and innocent face, but he thought it doubtful if she 
could stand her surroundings for a month and be 
worthy of the love of any honorable man. 

Mr. Man, you can’t always judge of people by their 
surroundings. 

At four o’clock Uriah came by, and Pearl went with 
him to the boarding house. 

They took a car on Madison street and rode to Cen¬ 
ter Avenue, nor did they walk far on Center Avenue 
before Uriah opened a gate in front of a three story 
brick. 

They walked up a brick walk and rang a bell. 

The door was opened by a middle-aged woman who 
was blind of the right eye, and the left one was so 
peculiarly set in her head that she had to stand al¬ 
most sideways of an object to discern it. 

She was a spare built, angular woman, and there 
was nothing about her prepossessing in appearance. 

She veered round sideways as she opened the door, 
so she could get a good view of those before her. 

"Oh, Mr. Uriah Lawrence. You again?" 

"Yes, Miss Twitched, I have brought you another 
girl, to room and board. I suppose her trunk arrived 
fill right?” 


120 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"Yes, the trunk is here, and I sent it up to the only 
room I had left. It’s on the third floor, and will cost 
the young lady $4 a week with her board if she rooms 
by herself. If you send another girl to go in with her, 
it will cost them $3.50 each, or, if she wants her ex¬ 
penses less she can move down on the next floor and 
go into what I call the colony room. You see, it’s 
a big room and I’ve got eight bedsteads in it. One 
of ’em is empty on account of the girl leaving, that 
you discharged. If she’ll go in there, I’ll board her 
for $3 a week.” 

"I judge for the first week at least she would prefer 
to room alone, until she gets better acquainted. 
Would you not, Pearl” 

"I think so, Mr. Lawrence, if I can afford it.” 

"Oh, that’ll be all right." 

"Excuse me, Miss Twitched. This is Miss Pearl 
Linwood. ” 

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss. I’ve got 
some lively girls here. I guess you’ll be satisfied.” 

"I presume so,” said Pearl, who little liked the 
looks of the woman or the place. 

' So the Parker girl left, did she?” 

"She had to. She couldn’t pay her board. I knew 
you wouldn’t stand for her, after you had discharged 
her. ” 

"What became of her?” 

"I don’t know, but I’ve an idea that she’ll be found 
in the hospital before long." 

“Think so?" said Uriah. 

"Looks like it." 

"Well, I couldn’t keep her in the store any longer. 
You understood that." 

"Yes, I undergtppd it,” 


“prudes don't succeed as clerks" I'll 

"Is anyone in the parlor, Miss Twitchell?” 

"I guess not, unless it’s my niece.” 

"Oh, May ain’t there, or I should hear her voice. 
She couldn’t keep still this long. Well, we won’t 
detain you. I want to talk with Pearl a little before 
I go. We’ll go in the parlor. I shall not stay long." 

"When the young lady is ready to go to her room, 
she’ll find me somewhere ’round. I’ll send May up 
with her,” so saying, Miss Twitchell walked off, and 
Uriah opened the door to the parlor. 

"How do you think you will be satisfied?” he asked 
when Pearl had seated herself near a window. 

"I can hardly judge, Mr. Lawrence, until I have 
been here longer. If I do not like the place or the 
people I will be able to find another without troubling 
you. As to the amount of my expenses, they must 
be gaged by the wages I am to receive. But in any 
event they must be light. My father, of necessity, 
mortgaged his farm a short time since and I wish to 
help him meet the mortgage two years hence.” 

Uriah smiled almost audibly. 

"If you help him to the extent of supporting your¬ 
self you will accomplish more than many farmer’s 
daughters do who seek Chicago. The most of them 
receive money from papa.” 

"Were I to be placed in that position I would quickly 
return home.” 

"And add further burdens to your father?” 

"My father, sir, never considered me a burden. It 
is not at his desire that I am here, but from my wish 
to aid him.” 

"Then let me disabuse your mind. You will be little 
aid to him as a department clerk Why, girls who 
have been with us three or four years, such as Annie 
and Kate, are paid but $3.50 a week.” 


12 2 


THE GIRL FROM MACOtfFlN 


"$3.50 a week? And after years of service? Im¬ 
possible. ” 

“That is the pay they receive.” 

“Pray, how do they pay their board and clothe them¬ 
selves?” 

“That is not for the firm to inquire into. They can 
employ more girls at that price, and less, than they 
want. You saw that lot of photographs that I took 
from a drawer of my desk?” 

“Yes.” 

"Well, the original of each photograph has applied 
for a position as saleswoman. As to girl’s expenses, 
some doubtless receive help from home. Others find 
some ‘friend’ who helps defray their expenses, and 
whom they can depend on in time of need.” 

“Such friends I judge are scarce." 

''Oh, no, Pearl. Such a friend would I be to you.” 
“Sir!” 

“Only those who have some one to lean on, Pearl, 
succeed as cleks. Their pay is too small. Girls want 
a good time once in a while. They want to visit the 
theaters, the museums, the parks, they have carfare 
to pay. They are bound to dress neatly. Then their 
articles of toilet. Surely they must have a ‘friend’ 
who would help them through. 

Prudes don't succeed as clerks! They’d starve to 
death, and again, they’d sell no goods. Girls who 
come into stores like ours to be worth their salt, must 
be abreast with the times. Hail fellows well met, and 
willing to have more than one string to their bow. 

“Now, Miss Twitchell understands that I am re¬ 
sponsible for your board until further orders.” 

“What pay am I to receive, sir?” 

“Well, you see, the first month we don’t generally 


“prudes don’t succeed as CLERKS** 12} 

pay wages, as it takes that long with many before 
they are familiar with the business.” 

“A month without pay? I can never submit to that, 
I will go back to my father.” 

"What, and place a greater burden on him? Wait 
until I have finished. You have been very fortunate 
to get into our house at all. I am specially interested 
in you, and have made an exception in your case. 
The first week you will receive no pay. For the en¬ 
suing three weeks your pay will be $2.50 a week. 
Thereafter you will receive the same pay as do Kate 
and Annie, who worked six months before they were 
paid the amount.” 

“Nothing the first week? And then not enough to 
pay my board? If you had written me those terms be¬ 
fore I came, I should have remained at home. Oh, 
father, father!” and tears gushed from Pearl’s eyes. 

“Do not be worried, Pearl,” and Uriah grasped her 
hand and tried to draw her to him, but she hastily 
pulled away. 

“I will aid you, Pearl. I will pay your board and 
your weekly salary will defray your other expenses. ” 

“Never, sir. I cannot submit to that.” 

“As you will.” 

“I desire nothing, from you, sir, or the firm for 
which I work, more than the salary I earn. If I can¬ 
not live on that, I can go home.” 

“Then, Miss Pearl, I very much fear that you will 
return to be a burden to your poor old father. I am 
responsible for your board while here, however, and 
in a little time you will learn more. You will learn 
that in Rome you must do as the Romans do.” 

“I shall never do that, sir, to cause my father and 
mother to wish that I had never been born, and if I 


124 


THE GlkL PROM MACOUPIN 


cannot pay for Miss Twitchell’s room alone you may 
send another girl to room with me. Even then it 
will be a month before I’ll be paid the price of my 
board and room.” 

“I tell you I'll look after your board.” 

“Do you look after the board bills of your other 
employes?” 

“Of all who board with Miss Twitchell—we pay 
their board bill and deduct the amount from their pay. 
If there’s anything left we give it to them.” 

“In my case the balance would be on the other 
side." 

“Not for long. I foresee that if you are sensible 
your pay will be increased, and you will not want for 
money. ” 

“I have—" 

Pearl was about to say "money, and will pay my 
own board,” but she happened to think: “Since this 
is the usual custom perhaps I had best retain my 
money for a contingency,” and concluded her remarks 
with the words—“the headache.” 

“Well,” said Uriah, “remember, I’m yours at com¬ 
mand. You’ll have other offers to pay your bills, but 
don’t forget I’m the employment clerk, and more, I’ve 
got an interest in the business. I can advance you, 
and will, if you’ll be good to me. Good night,” and 
leaving her face crimson with indignation he passed 
from the room, and the next moment she heard his 
voice in the hallway: “May! May!” 

"Yes,” and a very pretty girl of scarcely more than 
15, but exceedingly well developed entered the hall¬ 
way. 

“Where’s your aunt, puss?" 

“I ain’t puss. She’s in the kitchen.” 


“PRUDES DON’T SUCCEED AS CLERKS” I 25 

"The young lady in the parlor. Will you show her 
her room, you little dear,” and before May could di¬ 
vine his intentions, Uriah threw one arm around her 
neck and kissed her red lips. 

May twisted away. 

"You villain,” and she spat at him. 

"You honey,” and he threw her a dollar. 

She pocketed the dollar quickly enough. 

"Am I a villain, now? I paid you for that kiss. 
I’ll give you a dollar more if you’ll kiss me." 

"I’ll never do it. And if you kiss me again, I’ll tell 
aunt." 

"Give me back my dollar.” 

"Never. You got your money’s worth.” 

Uriah glanced toward the parlor door and saw 
Pearl’s flushed face in the doorway. 

"You see, Pearl," he said, “I pay for all favors.” 

"It was no favor,” said May. “You lie if you say 
it was. You stole it.” 

"Good-bye,” and Uriah was off. 

"Why don’t you tell your aunt of that man’s con¬ 
duct to you,” said Pearl. 

"Oh, she’d say the kiss didn’t hurt you, May, and 
the dollar will help pay expenses. Come on. I’ll 
show you to your room.” 

The two girls proceeded upstairs to the third floor 
and at the back of the hallway May opened a door. 
The room was a small one containing but a bed, two 
chairs, a cheap bureau with a looking-glass, and her 
trunk, which had been placed against the wall. 

"This door, ” said May, opening an inner one, "leads 
to the closet. You see?" 

"But the wash stand?” 

"The wash room for all the girls on this floor is at 


126 


'1 HE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


the end of the hall. Hot water pipes run up there, 
but 1 should think, Miss, you would rather room down 
in the colony. There’s lots of girls there and you 
would not get lonesome.” 

“I can tell better in a week or so,” said Pearl, 
"after I get acquainted.” 

May went humming back downstairs. She had 
already forgotten the episode in the hall where Uriah 
had snatched a stolen kiss. Perhaps she was think¬ 
ing of what she would buy with the dollar. At any 
rate, when she entered the kitchen she held it up be¬ 
tween her finger and thumb. 

"Look, Aunt Joan.” 

Aunt Joan sided around so that her one eye caught 
sight of the dollar. 

"Where did you get that, child?” 

"Old Uriah gave it to me for insulting me.” 

“Insulting you? what did he do, May?” and from 
Joan’s hands dropped her rolling pin on to the table 
before her. 

"He kissed me before I could get out of his way, 
and when I spit at him lie gave me the dollar. ” 

"The dollar’s all right. May, you need a pair of 
new shoes. But, Uriah Lawrence, don’t go too far. 
This one’s my own flesh and blood. The others ain’t. 
Don’t let Uriah get any more familiar with you, child. 
Of course it won’t do to offend him too much if it can 
be helped, as he furnishes all our boarders, pretty 
much. Did you take this last one to her room?” 

“Yes, Aunt, I did. And she looked as though she 
was going to cry when I came down.” 

"She looks like a country girl. I wonder if she 
will hold her own. If she’s a farmer’s daughter she’d 
better be back on the farm. ” 



She lay there thinking—thinking. 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 127 









































































































“PRUDES DON’T SUCCEED AS CLERKS” I2g 

“Why, Aunt!” 

“She’d be away from temptations, child, and her 
necessities might not drive her the way too many go. 
Yes, too many, whose wages won’t pay for their 
keep. ” 

"You won’t let me go to the store to work, Aunt?” 

“No, no, child. I can watch here that no harm 
comes to you. I couldn’t protect you there. You’re 
all I’ve got, May, and however indifferent I am to 
others, you’re my flesh and blood, and I’d die for 
you. ” 

"Oh, dear Aunt, I want you to live for me.” 

“So I will, May, I trust, till I see you happily 
married. Perhaps there’s a man somewhere worthy 
of an honest wife. They ain’t about these department 
stores according to my notion.” 

“I wouldn’t marry the best man I ever saw,” said 
May, “if those that come here to see the girls are 
a sample of them. ” 

"Well, set the table, May. There’s plenty for you 
to do at home. The girls will all be coming in pres¬ 
ently. ” 

While May was setting the table Pearl was lying 
across the bed upstairs, weeping as though her heart 
would break. 

Her bright dream of how she could aid her father, 
had faded away. She lay there thinking—thinking— 
until she heard many voices in the hallway, and soon 
after the supper bell rang. 

Pearl hastened to the bath room, bathed her face and 
hands, and descended the stairs. 


The Girl from Macoupin g 


CHAPTER XI 


COLONY HALT. 

Joan Twitched, who kept Colony Hall boarding 
house, as it had come to be known through Joan's 
ability to colonize so many girls in one room, was 
probably a woman of 50 years. 

She had come to Chicago to seek her fortune thirty 
years before. For years she had worked in a down 
town hotel. Then she had had charge of looming 
houses. She had worked hard and saved her money 
and while yet Center Avenue was in the suburbs Joan 
had purchased the lot whereon now stood Colony Hall. 

In the big fire of 1871 the rooming house of which 
shehad charge was consumed, and very nearly was she 
consumed with it. So nearly, in fact, that she lost 
entirely the use of the right eye, and had the other 
one seemingly drawn to one side by the fire. Yet she 
recovered and persevered, nor was it many years be¬ 
fore she built the Colony House. 

How she got the money to build it no one knew, 
but it was known that at the time of the fire she im¬ 
periled her life to save her trunk, had saved it and 
escaped with her life, though disfigured. 

When found by one of her former roomers, she was 
seated on the trunk bathing her blistered hands, face 
and swollen eyes. 

“Your trunk had like to have cost your life,” said 
this man. 


130 


COLONY HALL 


131 

"Its contents cost me more than life,” she replied. 

What she meant by that remark no one knew, but 
it was supposed afterward that the money, or much 
of it, that built Colony Hall, was at that time in 
Joan’s trunk. 

She had formerly been a fine looking woman, but 
after she recovered sufficiently to be about after the 
fire, she was as we have introduced her. 

When she had built her house she opened a rooming 
and boarding house there. By that time the location 
did not seem so far from the business center. 

She had some permanent and a number of transient 
customers from time to time, up to two years previ¬ 
ous, when her niece, a young girl from the East, had 
dropped down on her. Her only sister had died and 
sent her child, her May, to her for a home and pro¬ 
tection. 

Everything had conspired to make Joan a hard and 
bitter woman. Her very features were now anything 
but attractive. She felt hard and bitter toward every 
one. She had no desire to make any one’s path in 
life smoother. She had no confidence at all in men, 
and little in women. 

"Your life’s what you make it,” she would say. 
It’s nothing to me what you do, or where you go, so 
you pay me what you owe me.” And yet, v/hen two 
year before little May had handed her her younger 
sister’s letter, begging her to care for her child, when 
she had sided around so that her one eye took in the 
features of her niece, which must also have been those 
of her dead sister, her heart became as soft as a child’s. 

"Lucy’s girl? Come here, dear. I am very ugly 
now, but I have been called handsome. I will love 
you, child,” and she kissed May’s cheek, and almost 
felt her recoil. 


132 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Never before had she regretted that her features 
were deformed. 

From a bureau drawer she procured a cabinet pho¬ 
tograph and handed it to her niece. 

“There, niece, when I caress you, think of me as 
looking as I did 30 years ago.” 

“Is that a photograph of you, Aunt? How handsome 
you were,” and fearful lest she had hurt her aunt’s 
feelings, May twined her arms about her neck and 
kissed her. It was the first kiss that wrinkled face 
had known for many years. The first from kindred 
since Joan had parted from May’s mother before she 
was born. 

From that day on Joan would have died for May. 

For others’ ills she cared not. It was nothing to 
her. But woe to him that harmed a hair of the head 
of May. 

It so chanced that some two or three weeks after 
May’s arrival that there was one day a ring at the door¬ 
bell. Joan had answered it. Uriah Lawrence with 
two ladies stood at the door. He had seen her ad’ 
vertisement for roomers and had brought two clerks 
to her. 

After a talk they had agreed on a schedule of prices 
that he should pay for the female clerks she would 
accommodate, and he agreed to keep her rooms filled 
as nearly as possible. 

Of course her table was commensurate with the price 
paid, and her rooms were made to hold so many as to 
give the house it’s name. 

This was the house to which Uriah Lawrence had 
conducted Pearl. 

When Pearl entered the dining-room at a first glance 
in the direction of the table she was about to retire. 
She thought there was no vacant chair. 


COLONY HALL 


133 


“Right this way, Miss Pearl,” called out Joan, 
"here’s a seat for you, next me.” 

Pearl went forward. There were fully thirty young 
ladies seated at the table. 

Thirty young lady clerks? the reader may ask. What 
and all from one house? 

When it is remembered that in some of the depart¬ 
ment stores of Chicago there are fully 200 female 
clerks, it should not be astonishing that thirty find 
lodgment beneath one roof. 

“Good evening, girls,” said Pearl, assheneared the 
table. 

"Good evening," responded many. 

Pearl recognized the faces of many that she had 
seen in the store. 

"So, Miss Pearl, you found your way to the Colony, 
did you?” 

"Mr. Lawrence came with me." 

“Uriah! Uriah! Isn’t he charming—-his absence, 
I mean.” 

"Look out, Flora,” said another, "some one will 
report to Uriah that you are making game of him." 

"I guess I can deny it, can’t I? Besides, I ain’t 
joking. Pm telling the truth. You all know you’d 
rather see his Satanic Majesty than Uriah.” 

"You’re wrong, Flora, you’re wrong.” 

"Who is there, Nell, that would not?” 

“Why, Miss Twitchell, on pay day." 

"Oh, she ain’t one of us shop girls." 

"No, but she gets all of our money." 

"To tell the truth," said Joan, "I do prefer to see 
Uriah, pay day, than any man I know of.” 

"And you aint anxious to see him any other time?” 

"Not overly, no. My experience with men is that 
they won’t do to trust. None of them." 


134 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Hurrah for Miss Twitchell,” said Flora. 

“Here’s your tea, miss,” said Joan, handing a cup 
to Pearl. “You can reach the bread. Miss Allen, will 
you pass the butter?” 

“Ine,” said Miss Allen, “certainly." 

“You hardly expect me to pay 40 cents a pound for 
butter, at the board rate at Colony Hall?” 

“Not while you can get butterine at 18.” 

“Well, it’s healthy, girls. Butter is made from milk. 
Milk is impure. Ergo, don’t eat butter." 

“But butterine! Oleomargarine!" 

“Oh, Eugen—i—a!" 

“Here Flora, pass the prunes to Miss Pearl.” 

“Have a piece of the steak, Miss Pearl.” 

“Pass the Murphys, Bell. We’re our own waiters 
at Colony Hall. Ain’t we, Miss Twitchell?” 

“If I had to hire two or three waiters I’d have to 
cut your bill of fare.” 

“Don’t you do it, Miss Twitchell. We protest 
against waiters. Let the cook put the meals on the 
table, and we’ll do the rest.” 

“But what would you cut to-night,” said Flora. “I 
like waiters and style, but what would you cut?” 

“Why the bread to be sure,” said Eugenia. “She 
has to cut that.” 

“Not the Hamburg steak,” said Belle. 

“Not the Murphys, for I’m Irish,” Nell said. 

“Not the tea. We never could do without the 
old Young Hyson, 28 cents a pound by the chest.” 

“Well, what else is there?” 

“Prunes! Prunes!” 

"We never, never can live without prunes. It makes 
me sad to contemplate what would become of us 
should we go pruneless to bed,” said Flora. And so 


COLONY HALL 


135 


the chatter went on among the thirty girls until Pearl 
was laughing in spite of herself. 

“Well, young ladies,” said Miss Twitchell, “you 
would hardly expect me to keep a boarding house for 
nothing. Such as you do get you get enough of. You 
don’t go to bed hungry. I don’t feed you on samples 
and I don’t bother my head with what you do, as 
long as your board is paid.” 

“True, Miss Twitched This is a regular easy had, 
as far as that is concerned, and we find no fault with 
you. We must have our fun you know." 

“I’d rather see you do that than cry.” 

“Oh, our crying days are over. It’s new comers 
that cry.” 

When they had finished their repast some went to 
their rooms. A number put on their wraps and went 
out, and others entered the parlor. 

"Come, Pearl,” said Flora, “you’re a stranger here. 
Come in the parlor. Some of the girls will play. 
We have a crack tonded instrument here.” 

Pearl entered with Flora, and they seated them¬ 
selves on the sofa. 

Bede was just seating herself at the instrument 
where she played several lively airs, and finally a 
waltz that sent the girls spinning around the room at 
a lively rate. 

Several others followed Bede, and finally Pearl was 
appealed to. 

"I don’t play much,” she said. 

The girls found that she did play some, and they 
became more urgent. 

Pearl was forced to yield. She seated herself at- 
the instrument and played what her heart dictated— 
“Home, Sweet Home.” 


136 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


She had a charming voice, and her heart and soul 
were in the words she sang. 

When she had finished there were tears in her eyes, 
nor were her eyes the only ones that were dimmed by 
them. 

Flora was crying as she took her seat beside her. 
“Never play it again here, Pearl. It makes too many 
sad hearts.” 

Here two young men entered the parlor and two of 
the girls left with them for the theater. 

Soon after a middle aged man appeared, and two of 
them went with him. They began to stroll off, two 
and three at a time, until there was but Flora and 
Pearl left in the parlor. 

“Pearl, would you like to see our room? I belong 
in one of the rooms that gave the house its name. 
There’s eight of us usually, though now but seven. ’ 

Pearl accompanied her to the floor above. When 
they entered the room three of the girls were seated 
on their low cot beds smoking cigarettes. When they 
heard Pearl’s voice they tried to hide them. 

“Too late, girls," laughed Flora, “never mind. 
Pearl’s one of us now.” 

Two girls were darning stockings and two writing 
letters. 

"Where is your room, Pearl?” asked one of them. 

“On the upper floor. Do the girls go out much 
evenings?” 

“Oh, yes. We are cooped up in the store all day. 
It’s our only chance. They are most all gone now.” 

“Where have they gone?” 

“Oh, to concerts, theaters, museums and some of 
them maybe to concert halls where they ought not to 

It 

go- 


COLONY HALL 


137 


“How can they afford it on their wages?” 

“Bless you, they don’t go on their pay. They go on 
the other fellow’s. They’ve got beaus, you know. 
Some of them have got a different one for nearly every 
evening. Some of them go out with men old enough 
to be their fathers. They don’t care anything about 
them. Just use them for conveniences. What could 
a girl see or how could she dress on $3.50 a week, 
when her board costs the entire amount? When I 
came here I thought as you doubtless do now, that I 
could never do as the other girls did—run around with 
this and that admirer—but I found out that if I kept 
my head above water I’d have to, and I soon got to 
seeing the sights as much as the rest. 

"Then, how do you suppose they dress? Some, to 
be sure, get help from home. But more receive pres¬ 
ents and money from those whose company they keep. 
Some get to drinking too much beer. I have known 
them to come home at night what the boys would call 
boozy, but they are all right in the morning.” 

"Horrible!” exclaimed Pearl 

The girls all laughed. 

"Can none of them save money from their wages?” 
asked Pearl. 

“But a few of the most favored,” said Bell. "And 
they take the places of men who were receiving from 
$12 to $15 a week. These stores are piling up the 
millions on the necessities of poor girls. It aint alone 
their labor they despoil them of, but intoomany cases 
their good name suffers by their surroundings. They 
get desperate and it leads them—•" 

"Don’t talk about it, Belle,” said Flora, "it drives 
me to distraction.” 

"So you have no room-mate yet?” 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


138 

“No, but if I retain the room, I soon shall have. I 
can’t afford to keep it alone. I can’t understand how 
the 200 clerks in that store manage to subsist.” 

“Oh, most of them are Chicago girls who have 
homes and parents here in the city. With them it is 
different from what it is with girls who come in from 
the country. They have home surroundings. A father 
and mother to counsel them. Perhaps a big brother 
to guard them. They are not working to keep body 
and soul together. There is a roof over their heads, 
rain or shine. The wages they receive is pocket 
change. If they are insulted they leave the store and 
go home. 

“We country girls can’t do that. Many of us have 
no homes to go to. We must grin and bear it until 
we get calloused and then, if any clerks are advanced 
it is the city girls, generally, for they can influence 
some trade among their relatives, and have those who 
will look out for their interests.” 

“Are all these big stores as grinding in the wages 
they pay the girls, as the one in which we are em¬ 
ployed?" asked Pearl. 

“Perhaps not all of them are quite as bad. But 
those that are better it is very difficult to get a posi¬ 
tion in.” 

“Why, girls as house servants get $3 or $4 a week 
with their board and room,” said Belle. “They are 
far better off than we.” 

“Yes. But the idea of being a house servant keeps 
American girls from seeking that field.” 

“Well, girls, I was up very early this morning in 
order to catch the train, so good-night.” 

"Good night, Pearl.” 

"If you’re a bit homesick," said Flora, “I will room 
with you to night.” 


COLONY HALL 


139 


"I wish you would, Flora.” * 

The two girls ascended the other flight of stairs and 
soon after retired. 

Thus ended Pearl’s first day in Chicago. No, her 
experience was not quite ended, for ere yet sleep had 
closed her eyelids, while yet she was thinking of the 
terrible disappointment that had come into her life, 
of how helpless she would be to aid her father, and 
what was before her if she remained with Solomon, 
Goudy & Co -—. “ Re main, I can’t remain," she ex¬ 
claimed; then came the other thought, “but Harry? 
who will watch for Harry? I must bear all for a time.” 

While yet she thought of Harry and the dear 
ones at home, and contrasted Mark with the dudish 
fops that frequented the counters in the store, striving 
to make an impression on some sales girl, she heard 
laughter in the hallway below, and many feet ascend¬ 
ing the stairs. 

The laughter and hilarity increased as the feet 
neared the floor above. She heard many doors open 
and close. Presently she heard someone at work 
trying to open the door opposite hers. 

For five minutes she lay awake and listened. Finally 
she heard the voice, and distinguished the words: 
“Can’t you fi-find the keyhole, Mary?” 

“No, Lu. It’s to-to dark, and I’ve got too much 
beer. I n-never will g-go to that b-beer garden again. ” 

"I wish I could help you, but my head is g-going 
around like a top." 

“Well, we can’t s-stand here in the h-hall all-night. 
Have you got a m-match, Lu?” 

“No. No match, Mary.” 

Pearl awakened Flora, and she arose, turned up a 
lamp that was left burning low in the room, and 
opened the door. 


140 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"Can’t you get in, girls?” 

"We’ve t-too much b-beer, Floy. If you’ll turn us 
in, w-we’ll never, never go to that concert h-hall 
again. ” 

Pearl got a glimpse of the two faces and she turned 
her face to the wall and wept, as the two girls almost 
staggered into their room. 

"It’s useless to cry, Pearl,” said Flora. “The girls 
will be all right in the morning. They are of those 
who see nothing ahead but toil—toil—toil—for a bare 
pittance until they are worn out, and they have made 
up their minds to see what fun they can while they 
live. They are old hands. They have been with the 
firm six years.” 

"And still at $3.50 a week?” 

“Yes, still at $3.50.” 

A moment more and Flora was sound asleep, nor 
was it long before, in her dreams, Pearl was again in 
the arms of her dear old father at Linwood. 


CHAPTER XII 


“alone, with two mysteries to solve” 

At six o’clock all were awakened by a call bell 
rung through the halls, and fifteen minutes later break¬ 
fast was served. 

The breakfast this Friday morning consisted of 
steak, fried mush, boiled potatoes, molasses and 
coffee, and their lunch for the noon hour was taken 
with them by the different girls. The distance was so 
great that they could not return for a warm dinner. 
There were two other reasons, besides, why they did 
not return. One was that had the landlady at Colony 
Hall had to prepare a third meal the board would 
have been beyond the reach of the sales girls. An¬ 
other, to have ridden on a street car would have cost 
ten cents, which they needed for other purposes, so 
they hastily ate their breakfast, and a majority of 
them walked down, arriving at the store at- 7 o’clock, 
and woe to the party who was not on hand when the 
timekeeper passed around. 

Pearl had concluded to remain if possible. Per¬ 
haps, if Maggie had not been at Linwood she would 
have given up in despair and gone home. But that 
being the case, she could not bear to cause her father 
additional expense. She merely wrote him at the 
noon hour that she had secured the place, but at 
wages that for the present would not more than pay 
her expenses, but she wrote, “time may bring changes. 

141 


142 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


My greatest hope is that I may some day find Harry 
or ascertain something of Maggie’s father.” 

Uriah was around to her counter about half after 
twelve, smiling as before. He spoke to her and passed 
on out, evidently going to his dinner. Five minutes 
later a boy steped up to her counter with a package 
in one hand. 

“Miss, will you tell me which is Miss Pearl?” 

“I am Miss Pearl,” she replied, ‘‘what is it?” 

"This, miss,” and he handed her the package, and 
the next moment was gone from the store. 

Pearl couldn’t imagine for a moment what it could 
be. She thought the boy had made a mistake. She 
discovered her name ‘Miss Pearl Linwood. ” written 
on the package. She wondered if it was something 
from home, and hastily tore away the cord. Within 
the package were half a dozen apples, the same num¬ 
ber of bananas, and a box of candy. 

‘ Whatever!" exclaimed Pearl. 

“Why,don’t you know?" said Annie. “Uriah just 
passed out. He desires to create an impression, and 
sent them to you. Let me see. Yes. That’s his 
writing. I know it.” 

“I sha’n’t touch it,” said Pearl. 

“Then you are very foolish. Goodness knows we 
get little pay enough. Let anyone belonging to this 
firm, yes or any other, offer fruit to me." 

“Come, it’s lunch time,” observed Kate. 

The lunch was about a repetition of the day before. 

There was the package with the apples, bananas 
and candy. 

“Don’t be so foolish, Pearl,” said Kate. 

“I don’t want any familiarity with that man.” 

“Eat the bananas, apples and candy, and hold him 
at arm’s length.” 


143 


“alone with two mysteries to solve” 

The three girls ate them together. 

When Uriah returned he passed the counter again: 
“Did you eat the fruit, Pearl?” he asked. 

“Oh, yes. Accept the thanks of Annie, Kate and I. 
We demolished the package.” 

Uriah couldn’t well say “it was intended for you 
alone,” but he bit his lips as he walked on. 

“She knows," he thought, “that but for her sweet 
face the fruit would not have been sent back. She 
didn’t want it to appear that I was making a favorite 
of her, or that she was accepting favors from my hands. 

I will humble her somewhat yet.” 

The afternoon’s trade was a repetition of the former 
day’s. 

Pearl had more than her share of customers, as the 
cashier could but see from the checks she sent for¬ 
ward. And she was forced to listen to compliments on 
her beauty and attractiveness, without number. 

Many times she became so indignant that she nearly 
cried. 

“Laugh at them,” said Kate. “Just don’t mind them 
at all.” 

When closing time had come Kate said: “Pearl, if 
I come for you, will you come over and see our den? 
It’s only a few blocks. Just over on Monroe from 
where you’re boarding.” 

“Certainly,” said Pearl, "and glad of something to 
do to pass the evening.” 

When they passed out the door there stood the 
young man who had bought the handkerchiefs of Pearl 
the day before. He lifted his hat and looked straight 
at her. She clung to Kate’s arm and did not even 
recognize him. 

She heard him exclaim, as they passed on: “Shop 
girls are getting mighty stuck up.” 


i 4 4 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


After supper Kate conducted her over to the rooms 
of herself and three companions on Monroe street. 

She found them cozily fixed. 

“Most too cozily,” said Annie, “when we are all 
here, there is not much extra room. But it's the only 
way we can save money." 

“Can you save any this way?” 

“Oh, we save enough to clothe ourselves. You see, 
we pay, as I told you, twelve dollars a month for our 
rooms; five dollars a week feeds the four of us; and 
we’re each left with nearly five dollars a month to 
clothe us. I paid ten dollars last year toward the 
schooling of a younger sister, and Christmas last sent 
five dollars to my mother*” 

“Why, that is better than Colony Hall,” said Pearl. 

“Oh, you can never save a cent boarding there, and 
then, your time is hardly your own evenings. There 
are too many calls. Young men and older ones from 
our store and others. Uriah also brings round country 
customers to pass an evening. Then they take the 
girls out to theaters, etc. It’s too demoralizing. I 
tried Colony Hall a month on account of Uriah’s in¬ 
sisting that some of us go there, but I got out as soon 
as I could, and I advise you to do the same.” 

At nine o’clock Peari announced that it was time 
for her to go home. 

“We will act as your body guard,” said Kate. There 
will be two of us to return.” 

They left the house and who should they meet at the 
gate but Uriah Lawrence. 

“Ah, good evening, young ladies. I called at the 
Colony and learning that Miss Pearl had called on 
you, I thought I would come over and see her home.” 

‘‘Kate and Annie were going with me,” said Pearl. 


“ALONE, WITH TWO MYSTERIES TO SOLVE” 1 45 

"And can yet I hope I will not be in their way." 

"Oh,- no ” Kate said, “you can ward off danger.” 

When the four arrived at Colony Hall, Pearl asked 
the girls in. 

"Oh. no," said Annie, “it's too late." 

"Let’s accompany them as far back as the first 
corner," remarked Uriah. 

Pearl saw no way to refuse. They left Annie and 
Kate on the corner and started back. As they were 
passing a saloon Uriah placed a hand on Pearl’s arm. 

"You see that side door, Pearl. That is the ladies’ 
entrance. Let us go in here and have a glass of 
wine. ” 

"Is that a saloon, Mr. Lawrence?" 

"Yes. A very fashionable place." 

"I can't go in there, sir.” 

"Not when I request it? I would take you to no 
improper place, surely." 

"No, but I cannot enter a saloon. I think ladies 
of respectability would be hardly found there." 

"Why, don’t you see that sign above the door, 
‘Ladies’ Entrance?’ It is a highly respectable place. 
1 shall be offended if you do not come. Only for 
a moment." 

He had Pearl’s arm and had her half way to the 
side door when it opened, and two women, with painted 
faces and gaudily dressed came out. One was so drunk 
that she was leaning heavily on the arm of the other 
to keep her feet. 

"Hallo," she cried. "Here’s a covey and his girl. 
If we go back, sport, will you set ’em up?” 

"Mr. Lawrence!" exclaimed Pearl, "you would take 
me there? Thank you, sir. I know the way home," 
and Pearl broke away from him and hastened in the 
direction of Colony Hall. 


146 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


He soon caught up with her, “Why, Pearl, there 
was no harm going in there for a glass of wine. Those 
women -being there was unfortunate / but I did not 
know it. They are gone now. Let us return?” 

“Do you think, sir, I would visit a place frequented 
by such characters as that? I would not disgrace my 
father and my home by entering a saloon. Do not ask 
it again.” 

Uriah could only say: “I was not aware you were so 
prudish as not to venture where you may at any time 
see fashionable and well-dressed dames.” 

“I am neither fashionable nor weld-dressed, sir, but 
when the time comes that I must lose my self respect, 
if I would remain an employ^ of your firm, I shall 
cease to be such employd. ” 

“I shall not ask you to a saloon again, but there are 
many in the house'who would have gone had I asked 
them. ” 

“You’re at liberty to ask them. But if you strive 
to keep them from such places instead of enticing 
them into them, you would more be entitled to their 
thanks and those of their parents.” 

"Miss Pearl, what think you? That with shop girls 
it must be all work, and no recreation?” 

“Oh, no. There is plenty of recreation without their 
resorting to the more debasing kinds.” 

By this time they had reached home. 

Uriah entered with Pearl. Quite a number were in 
the parlor. “Girls, what do you think?” he remarked. 
“I invited Pearl into the Abby, just up the street, 
for a glass of wine. She felt insulted.” 

Two or three of the girls exclaimed: “Oh, invite us. 
Perhaps Pearl don’t like wine.” 

“She says she would lose her self-respect if she was 
to enter such a place.” 


147 


( ‘ALONE, WITH TWO MYSTERIES TO SOLVE” 

“Well,” observed one of the girls, “I guess the 
most of us have lost that, since we have been trying 
to keep body and soul alive, on three dollars and a 
half a week.” 

“Not a bit of it,” said Flora. “I have lost none of 
mine. I have never done anything I am ashamed of.” 

“But have you not been almost forced to do some 
things that you would not have done but for the force 
of circumstances?” 

“Well, I guess I have. I’ve had nothing but dried 
herrings and bread and butter for lunch, for instance. 
But I wasn’t ashamed of it.” 

Uriah was not well satisfied with his progress in 
making an impression on Pearl’s heart. 

The next day at the store he found an opportunity 
to invite her to a theater that night, and finally, when 
he had invited Kate to go also, she consented. 

It was about a week after this, one day, that Kate 
pointed out a rather small, sickly looking woman that 
was passing through the store. 

“Do you know who that is, Pearl?" she asked. 

“Why, no.” 

"That lady is Mrs. Uriah Lawrence.” 

“Is it possible. Why, you never told me he was 
married. We should not have gone to the theater 
with him. ” 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t suppose you 
cared. ” 

“Nor do I. But I should judge his wife was the 
party to accompany him to public places.” 

“Perhaps you noticed she is not very attractive 
looking. ” 

“He must have found her so when he made her his 
wife. ” 


148 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"I understand the attraction was some fifty thou¬ 
sand dollars she was said to possess, and which Uriah 
now has invested in this store. However, I am in¬ 
formed that the interest stands in her name.” 

“I am sorry for the woman, Kate. Nor shall I re¬ 
ceive any further attentions from Uriah.” 

This was easier said than done, for Uriah was always 
forcings his attentions where they were not wanted. It 
did not take him long to ascertain that Pearl would go 
out with him no more, but he became a more frequent 
visitor at Colony Hall than ever, and if an opportunity 
presented itself, he always secured a seat near Pearl. 

“Why will you go out with me no more, Pearl?” he 
asked one evening. 

“If for no other reason, because you are a married 
man. ” 

"For that reason you should pity me, and would had 
you seen my wife." 

“Why did you marry her?" 

“Oh, I was young then. If she was only like you, 
Pearl. ” 

“If she was she would be very unhappy. Perhaps 
she is as it is, and that it is your fault.” 

"I love you, Pearl. Not my wife.” 

He often talked in this manner, and Pearl would 
indignantly leave the room, but in a few evenings the 
experience would be repeated. 

“Oh, Uriah is terribly infatuated with you,” said 
Kate one day, “but it will wear away after a little. 
He now thinks you are about the only girl in the 
world." 

"Would you believe it, Kate, he wanted me to quit 
work in the store entirely. Said he would find a new 
boarding house for me. Ain’t he a villain?” 


Pearl interviews the Chief of Police. 



Girl from Macoupin, p. 149. 





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































“ALONE, WITH TWO MYSTERIES TO SOLVE” 151 

Daily Pearl kept track of the papers, and the half 
hours at noon she generally spent watching the passing 
throngs in the street, but there was no news of the 
lost Harry, no word to cheer Maggie. 

The first of the month Hope Roberts, another country 
girl had been sent over to room with her, so she still 
kept the old room. 

To letters, she received from home she always sent 
cheerful replies and stated that her only regret was 
that she would be unable to help her father. 

About the first of April she received a letter from 
Maggie stating that her father desired her to call on 
the chief and make known that she was in the city. 
“Do not forget my father,” Maggie had added, “If he 
is ever discovered I am satisfied that I shall owe it to 
you being in Chicago.” 

About the tenth of the month Pearl managed to get 
excused from the store for an hour at noon, and vis¬ 
ited the City Hall. 

She went alone as she did not care to discuss the 
matters that took her there in the presence of others 

“My dear young lady,” said the chief, “I am pleased 
to see you, but there has been positively no clew to 
the mystery surrounding your brother’s disappearance. 
I am thoroughly of the opinion now, that he was mur¬ 
dered or in a fit of abstraction committed suicide.” 

“Please do not write that opinion to my poor father,” 
said Pearl, "for I yet believe my brother to be alive.” 

“I will not. You shall write him what you please. 
You are a brave girl to come here and undergo life in 
a department store with the hope that you may dis¬ 
cover him. ” 

“I suppose,” said Pearl, “that you have been un¬ 
able to learn anything of the father ot the Scotch 


152 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Not a thing. I think the man does not wish to 
claim his daughter if he be living.” 

“I cannot believe that. Any father might be proud 
of Maggie." 

"I don’t doubt it, Miss Linwood, but public officers 
lose faith in humanity in general.” 

"I think I should," said Pearl, 'if I remained long 
in Chicago.” 

"I trust you will not find it necessary to do so. I 
think the life of a sales girl unsuited to you." 

Promising to call again Pearl took her departure. 

“So," she though, “the police department are mak¬ 
ing no further efforts. They think my brother no 
longer among the living. I am left alone in this big 
city with two mysteries to solve. Nor do I think I 
can do much to slove them, but there is that, that 
will. Time; and I must lend my aid." 


CHAPTER XIII 


UNWELCOME ATTENTIONS 

All through the summer months of 1888 Pearl re¬ 
mained in the service of Solomon, Goudy & Co., and 
she yet found board and lodging at Colony Hall 

Two or three times she had been on the point of find¬ 
ing a place elsewhere, and she had tried to induce 
Flora to go with her. 

“If we leave here, Pearl, I am afraid Uriah will 
discharge us As long as we stay at Colony Hall we 
are safe,” Flora had said. 

Pearl had informed Uriah that she thought of chang¬ 
ing her boarding place. Pie advised her not to do so. 
Stating that some of the girls might be laid off when 
times were dull, but that those that remained where 
he placed them would be safe. Her board had been 
reduced to three dollars, and her pay increased to four 
dollars. So now she had one dollar above her board bill. 

Uriah still showered unwelcome attentions on her. 
But she would go nowhere with him, and he could 
only talk to her at Colony Hall, and at Colony Hall 
he was nearly every evening in the week. 

All knew that he was a married man. Yet few dare 
show their sentiments toward him. 

Pearl had said to Flora one evening after supper : 
“Flora, I'm going to begin new tactics. That man I 
despise. Why does he come here every evening?" 

“My private opinion is, Pearl, that the man is infat- 
153 


154 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


uated with you. He never did come so often before." 

"Why, he can spend little time with his wife " 

"I wonder she has not obtained a divorce from him 
before now. But I understand that she is in ill health. 
But what of your tactics?" 

"When he enters the parlor I shall leave it for some 
other room. If he seeks me I shall not be found by 
him. This is to be borne no longer." 

That very evening Pearl was hardly seated at the 
instrument when she felt an unwelcome presence in 
the room. She turned her head and Uriah stood be¬ 
side her. 

"Good evening, dear Pearl,” and he seized her 
wrist. 

She arose to her feet. "Mr. Lawrence, those words 
from you are an insult. Speak your soft words to one 
who I know must need them. Your poor wife.” 

"Pearl, she is most gone. She can’t live ten days. 
It will be all mine. I had no idea of marrying a shop 
girl, but Pearl, heaven and earth shall not separate 
us. You shall be my wife.” 

"Monster! Your wife at home, perhaps dying, and 
you talk of marriage to me. Rather would I beg my 
bread from door to door than take your poor wife’s 
place. Unhand me or I’ll scream." 

"I have heard people scream in this house before." 

“Thank God! someone is coming. There, sir," and 
she pulled away from him. "I have no words for you.” 

"I have for you, Pearl. And you must hear them 
to-night. What! Gone? Well, then I’ll find a way, 
for I must know for all time to come." 

Pearl passed out of the room and joined Belle and 
Flora on the floor above. Several of the other girls 
entered the parlor. 


UNWELCOME ATTENTIONS 


155 


Pearl had not been upstairs long before Kate came 

running up. 

"Pearl, dear, I have come for you. Annie Ford has 
lost her mother and the poor girl has gone home. We 
want you to come over and stay with us to-night." 

"Certainly. My room-mate has gone home and it’s 
lonesome. Girls, don’t for the world’s sake say that 
Pve left the house. Good night." 

"Good night." 

As Pearl and Kate were passing through the back 
hall they encountered May just coming from the 

kitchen. 

"Where are you going, Pearl?” she said. 

"Plome with Kate to night. Annie Ford is away 
Don’t say a word, May, until Mr. Lawrence has gone. 
I don’t want him after me.” 

"No; but aunt has the headache to night and I keep 
her awake. May I sleep in your room?” 

"Certainly, dear. ” 

The two girls took their departure and after perhaps 
an hour May entered the parlor. 

Uriah was yet there, and one of the girls was play¬ 
ing on the piano. 

"Where is Miss Pearl, May?” 

"Why, she was up in Colony room a little while 
ago.” 

After a little while May went back to the kitchen 
where her aunt was still seated by the fire 
"How do you feel now, Aunt Joan?” 

"Oh, Pve got one of my blind headaches, child. I 
wish Uriah would go home, I want to lock up.” 

‘‘He’ll go pretty soon now, I think, Aunt-” 

"He’s a villain. May. To be here with these girls 
with a wife at home. He’s been a villain for years. 
I know him.” 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


156 


“It’s to see Pearl, Aunt, that he comes here so much 
now.” 

"And he’s watching you too, May. He’s an unprin¬ 
cipled villain. Shun him, girl. Only he’s useful to 
us in a way, I would not trust him around.” 

“I was thinking, Aunt, perhaps I’d better sleep up 
in Pearl’s room to-night. Kate came for her to go 
over and stay with her to-night. Annie has gone home. 
I told Pearl of your headache. She said ‘surely sleep 
in my room. But don’t let Uriah know I’ve left the 
house. ’” 

“A good girl is Pearl. Yes, I shall keep you awake, 
but it will be best child. I shall miss you. I love 
you much, May. When I die I shall leave you every¬ 
thing I possess.” 

“Oh, Aunt," said May, tears gathering in her eyes, 
“you must not die. ” 

“I hope not soon, dear. I want to see you married 
to a noble young man, first. If there is one to be 
found. Now, child, go and see if Uriah has gone.” 

May went to the parlor, and not seeing Uriah asked 
for him. 

“He left here some time since," said Belle. "He 
said good night and must have gone home. He seemed 
very gloomy and sat there in silence on the sofa after 
Pearl left the room. The man seems to be unhappy 
about something.” 

“Oh, he’s in love,” said May. "He’d better be home 
with his sick wife.” and she returned to her aunt. 
"Mr. Lawrence has gone, Aunt.” 

"Well, come with me, May, and I’ll close the house. 
Joan entered her sleeping-room which opened from 
the kitchen, and from the drawer of a bureau which 
stood near the head of her bed she procured a colt’s 


UNWELCOME ATTENTIONS 


157 


revolver of a large pattern. It was one she had had 
years. It had accompanied her in her rounds closing 
up Colony House, ever since its doors had been opened- 
It is safe to say that the cartridges its chambers con¬ 
tained, were the ones placed there by the dealer when 
he sold the weapon to Joan. 

"I may never need it,” she had said, “but I have 
no men folks around. I want one in the house. I 
might as well have a big one. The very sight of it 
will frighten thieves away. If I should have to shoot 
it would probably scare me as much as it did the thief, 
but I shall feel safer with it,” 

Joan, revolver in hand, acompanied by May, de¬ 
scended the basement stairs. 

May with the lamp piloted her aunt from room to 
room, throughout the basement. The doors were 
locked, the windows closed, and the windows fastened 
securely down. 

When they ascended the stairs again the parlor was 
empty. All the girls had retired. 

Here the doors were all locked. The gas in the 
parlor was turned off, and that in the hall lowered. 

May accompanied her aunt to her room, and, after 
she had placed the huge revolver under her pillow and 
retired, for some moments bathed her head with hot 
vinegar, which was her favorite remedy. 

“There, dear,” said Joan, “I think I shall sleep. 
Now go to bed. If you’re too lonesome up there by 
3'ourself, call for one of the girls." 

“I shall not be lonesome, aunt. But if you need 
me, ring this bell. I will place it on the chair by 
the bed. Good-night.” 

May bent over and kissed her aunt’s face and was 
gone. 


1 5 8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Joan turned her head and with her one eye watched 
her until she passed from view. 

“There goes the only one on earth that I love." 

May went humming a tune up the stairway, uncon¬ 
scious of what awaited her. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A STARTLED HOUSEHOLD 

Belle had told the truth when she said that after 
Pearl had left the parlor Uriah had seemed very 
gloomy and unhappy. 

He had sat there on the sofa in silence for an hour 
or more after Pearl had hastened from the room. Only 
once had he spoken. Then he had inquired of May 
for Pearl. 

“She shall hear what I have to say,” he thought. 
“She shall know that it is her handsome face that 
caused me entirely to forsake my wife. My wife! I 
never loved her. I married her for the money she 
had. I induced her to put it in the business, but it’s 
all in her name. I couldn’t work her out of that. She 
was too shrewd. Now, she has her will made. But 
God knows how. I don’t. I’ve given her cause enough 
to get a divorce, but she won’t. She’s afraid I’ll be 
happy with someone else, and she says death will 
divorce her soon enough. I can’t get around Pearl 
any other way. I must marry her. She shall listen to 
me. She shall, yes, and to-night. I am no boy, to 
be turned down by a shop girl, but how? Why, go 
to her room.” 

Uriah rose from his seat, bade the girls good nignt, 
not intending to enter the parlor again, and closed the 
door behind him. Instead of passing out the front 
door he hastily ascended the stairs. On the second 

159 


l6o '1 HE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 

floor he heard voices emanating from within the closed 
doors. 

"She may not have gone to her room yet,” he thought. 

He quickly passed up the other stairs, through the 
hall, and stood before the door of Pearl’s room. He 
knew it to be her room. 

He tapped softly on the door. There was no an¬ 
swer. 

He tried the knob. The door was unlocked and he 
entered it. 

He closed the door after him and lighted the gas. 

On the bureau was a pair of gloves. He picked up 
one of them. The name Pearl was stamped on it. 

"Sweet Pearl, you shall be mine, come what will.” 

He pressed the gloves to his lips and glanced around 
the room. On the wall hung a hat that he had often 
seen her wear. 

There stood her trunk in a corner of the room. He 
tried the lid. It was locked. Why did he try the 
lid? He would have taken nothing from the trunk? 
No. But he would be feasting his eyes on articles 
that belonged to Pearl. 

He opened the closet door. A cloak and several of 
her articles of wearing apparel hung before him on 
hooks. 

One dress was the one Pearl had on when she first 
came to the store. 

He stepped back, turned out the gas jet, entered 
the closet and closed the door. His arms he folded 
about the dress of Pearl, it’s folds pressed to his lips. 
Then he stood in darkness and silence listening for her 
coming. .She should know how he loved her. , She 
should be his. For months now thoughts of possessing 
this girl had been the one theme surging through his 
mind. 


A STARTLED HOUSEHOLD 


161 

There had been a barrier in the way of making her 
his wife. That barrier was about to be removed. He 
must be assured that there was no other. There must 
be no other. 

"No other!" he exclaimed, "will serve to take you 
from me." 

Long he stood there waiting—waiting—waiting. 
How long he knew not. 

He fancied he heard Aunt Joan locking the house. 
He heard doors closing. Surely all were retiring. 

"Hark!" now he heard a footstep coming down the 
hallway, in the direction of PearTs room. 

"How fast my heart beats," he thought. "I must 
not startle her too suddenly, and when I leave she 
must come down and fasten the door after me. Should 
any one else see me, I don’t care. It would look 
compromising. She’d have to marry me to protect 
her name. Gods, that was a lucky thought, I must 
manage to that end. Sweet girl, you little dream that 
one who loves you is so near. You don’t love me now. 
You despise me. For urging you to accompany me 
to places you would not go—I love you all the more. 
You hate me because, being married, I prate to you 
of my love. I will soon be single, but not for long, 
sweet Pearl, if you will listen to me." 

May’s hand was on the knob. It turned and she 
entered the door. 

Uriah could hear her every move about the room, 
as she disrobed. 

"There is no use lighting the gas/’ May thought, 
"just for a moment I will leave the door open." 

She was soon disrobed and her long white night 
robe donned. She closed the door but left it ajar, so 
that should her aunt need her and ring the bell, she 

The Girl from Macoupin n 


162 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


could hear it Then, quickly, got into bed, and in 
five minutes was sound asleep. 

For perhaps fifteen minutes longer Uriah stood 
there. Then, hearing not a sound throughout the 
house, he softly opened the closet door and stepped 
into the room. 

His first step was to push close the bedroom door 
and turn the key. 

Softly he stepped to the bedside. 

From the dim light that entered the room through 
its one window, which stood near the head of the bed, 
Uriah could discern the outlines of a form. 

He could even see the white face which was partly 
hidden by the clustering hair. 

He sat down on the side of the bed. 

With one hand he touched the dark tresses, and 
bent over the face. 

He was between it and the window. He could see 
the outlines and the soft breath fanned his cheek. It 
made him wild. 

“Sweet Pearl, forgive me But it is I." 

His arms encircled the form on the bed, and his lips 
w T ere pressed to those of the half unconscious May. 
“My love! My love!” 

Then the silence of the house was broken by the 
startling cry : “Murder! Murder! Help! Help!” 

Shriek after shriek welled up from the throat of 
May. 

"Gods! She will ruin all!” 

In her attempt to leap from the bed May had sprung 
into Uriah’s arms. 

He forced her back on the bed, and his right hand 
found its way to her throat. 

I must silence these cries. She cannot know it is 
me.” 


A STARTLED HOUSEHOLD 


163 


He grasped her throat in his right hand as in a 
vise. Even as he did so, he kissed her face. She was 
breathing hard. 

That cry of May’s had penetrated the ears of every 
inmate of the house. Some of the bolder girls had set 
their doors ajar and they were peering into the hall. 
Some on the floor below had rushed out into the hall, 
and were screaming now. 

Joan Twitchell, who lay there, dreaming of the 
future of her niece was brought to her feet the instant 
that first cry pierced her ears. 

"May! My God, May!’’ 

To grasp the revolver was the work of an instant, 
and she was rushing up the stairway. 

The frightened girls in the first hallway fled again 
into their rooms at sight of her white disfigured face, 
disheveled hair, and the murderous weapon clutched 
in her hand. 

She flew up the remaining stairs, cocking the re¬ 
volver as she ran. 

The last cry she heard as she reached this floor. It 
seemed half stifled but it came from down the hall. 
Her bare feet sped in the direction. In a trice her 
hand was on the door-knob. 

"Oh, God, it is locked.” 

In an instant all the power in that large, raw-boned 
frame was hurled against it. 

The iron catch snaps. The door flies open. There 
is May, her white feet on the floor, her head and 
shoulders apparently forced over backward upon the 
bed, and a hand encircles her throat. 

The ligld from the hall revealed all this, and re¬ 
vealed besides the form of a man. 

A groan greeted Joan’s ear as the door flew open. 


164 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


With both hands the heavy revolver was raised. 

She had leaped in, in such a manner as to place the 
body of the assassin to her left, and as the muzzle of 
the revolver was placed against his right side, his hold 
on May’s throat relaxed. 

“Joan!” 

There was a report that awakened the echoes in the 
streets. 

“God! Oh, God!” and Uriah Lawrence fell to the 
floor. The revolver fell from Joan’s hands. “May! 
Oh, May!” She stepped over the prostrate body and 
gathered her up in her arms. 

“My darling! My all! And dead! Dead!” 

Down two flights of stairs she bore her. She was 
followed by Flora and Belle from the second floor. 
Joan laid her on her bed. “The end of my hopes. 
My lost, lost dear!” 

“No, no. Aunt Joan,” said Flora. “Water!” and she 
sprinkled May’s face with it. 

“Have you some spirits?” 

“Yes. There on the bureau.” 

Belle turned a small quantity down May’s throat. 

Her eyes opened. 

“See, Aunt Joan, May still lives.” 

Joan was bent over her niece, kissing her cheeks^ 
her hands, her hair, and moaning—“All I had! All I 
had! May,” she cried, “speak to your old aunt! You 
shall never sleep from her side again.” 

“I shall soon be over it, Aunt. But my neck hurts. 
I was so frightened. Would he have killed me?" 

“The assassin! The burglar! I judge so, May, to 
have stopped your noise.” 

“Do you know who it was, Aunt?” 

“Why, no.” 



Girl Cron Mawupia, p. I6e> 

















































































































































































































































% 


























* 

























































































































































A STARTLED HOUSEHOLD 167 

“And you fired the revolver? You shot him to save 

**v II 

me? 

“Do you think you know, dear?” 

"Did you kill him, Aunt?” 

“Kill him? I don’t know. I thought of nothing 
but saving your life. I suppose we must go and see 
now. ” 

“I can’t—I can’t go, Aunt.” 

“No, no You are trembling like a leaf. Stay with 
her, Flora. 1 must go and see. Strange the police 
did not hear that shot.” 

“Aunt, 1 must tell you before you go, that he you 
shot did not intend his assault for me. I was not the 
one he sought. ” 

“Not the one sought? Was any particular one to 
be the victim?” 

“Yes, Aunt. Pearl. If I mistake not you will find 
Uriah Lawrence above, dead. He I think is the vil¬ 
lain that had me by the throat, and that he sought 
Pearl is sure.” 

“Thank God the poor girl is away,” said Flora. 

“Uriah Lawrence! May, impossible. He is a vil¬ 
lain but would not—" 

“It was his infatuation for Pearl, Aunt.” 

“Remain behind, Flora, and you, Belle.” 

With white face and set lips Joan proceeded up the 
stairs again. This time she bore with her a flask of 
brandy. As she neared the open door she heard a 
groan. She turned high the gas in the hall, crossed 
the threshold and lighted the gas in the room. Before 
her on the carpet lay the form of the man she had 

shot. 

"God in heaven, Fred! You? You cause a woman 
to take the life of her own son? Would you have 
murdered my niece?" 


1 68 THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 

“May! May! Was it May?" 

“It was, unhappy wretch. Pearl went over to Mon¬ 
roe street to spend the night.” 

“It was all for love of her. I would not have in¬ 
jured May but she cried out, and I could do nothing 
else. Pearl refused to listen to me. I would have 
made her, and for that purpose did I secrete myself 
in the room. My time is short. Let me remain Uriah 
Lawrence to the last.” 

“My lost, unhappy son.” 

“Blame not yourself, mother. How could you know. 
And then, perhaps, I should have choked her to death. 
For I grew frightened. Yet I thought it was Pearl. 
Help me to bed You must call help—lay me in Pearl’s 
bed and let me die.” 

“Your wife! Your wife!” 

“She is better off without me, should she live." 

“Here, see. May and Flora too.” 

“Forgive me, May. I did not know it was you. 
Now all lift me to the bed. Softly! Softly! Oh, 
God! I am dying, mother, dying. Had I not have 
been ashamed of you, and disowned my name, this 
would not be. You have more cause to be ashamed 
of me. Thank God you have May left. Hear me girls, 
quick! So let the testimony go: Joan Twitchell took 
me for a burglar." 

“A doctor! my son. A doctor!” 

“No doctor. A policeman, quick.” 

He was yet alive when two officers and a surgeon 
were brought in. 

“Doctor, officers,” articulated the dying man, “I 
sent for you. You can do no good. I am the only 
one at fault here. Joan Twitchell took me for a burg¬ 
lar. Appearances pointed that way. She is not to 


A STARTLED HOUSEHOLD 


169 


blame.” The doctor bent over him, but the crimson 
blood welled up from his throat and with a last look 
at the disfigured face of the mother whose name he 
had years before discarded, Fred Twitchell, alias Uriah 
Lawrence, breathed his last. 


CHAPTER XV 


“a mother can never forget” 

"The man is dead!” exclaimed the doctor. 

"Madame,” said one of the officers to Joan, “did 
you shoot this man?” 

"Yes, God help me, I shot him. My niece occu 
pied this room to-night. I was awakened an hour ago 
by screams. I seized that revolver, which I’ve kept 
in the house for years, and rushed upstairs The cries 
I heard grew fainter. I found the door locked. As 

you may see, I burst it open. I found this man 
Dead, doctor? Do you say he's dead?” 

"Yes, madame. He could scarcely live with a ball 
from that weapon fired through his body.” 

Joan stood leaning against the headboard, gazing 
down at the face of her son. 

"Well, I burst the door open. The dead man had 
my niece by the throat, strangling her. I love my 
niece. She is all I have. I thought of burglars as I 
was rushing up the stairs, and instantly the door gave 
way, and I saw the sight before me, I raised the re¬ 
volver and fired. My niece was unconscious. I thought 
het dead, and bore her downstairs, where, with help, 
I revived her.” 

"You are a brave woman. You doubtless saved her 
life.” 

"Who are all these young girls here?" 

170 


“A MOTHER CAN NEVER FORGET” 17I 

Salesgirls from a down town department store, 
who board with me.” 

“What, the dastard trying to rob the salesgirls?” 

"I do not now think robbery his object.” 

“What then? Did you know the man?" 

“His name was Uriah Lawrence. He was employ¬ 
ment clerk for the firm of Solomon, Goudy & Co. It 
was he that employed all the girls for the firm. The 
young girl that usually occupies this room, he was 
much smitten with. She would listen to none of 
his advances. Perhaps, because she loathed him. Per¬ 
haps, because she knew he was a married man. For 
both reasons, I believe. He was here last night. The 
object of his attentions left the house to spend the 
night. He knew nothing of it. He must have stolen 
up the stairs and secreted himself in that closet. His 
object, he told me, before you came, was to force the 
young lady to listen to him. My niece, unknown to 
him, occupied the room. When she awoke his arms 
were around her, and he was kissing her face. She 
screamed with fright and strove to escape. He strangled 
her. With what result you know.” 

“Infamous villain!” exclaimed the doctor. 

“Perhaps,” said Joan, “his mind had given way.” 

“It were charity to think so. Was he living with 
his wife, madame?” 

“I do not think he was.” 

“Well, we will send for a patrol at once,” said one 
of the officers, “and have the body taken to the morgue. 
The inquest will be held there. You and your niece 
will be summoned to attend. I suppose you would 
not like the body left here, until that time.” 

"No,” said Joan, “1 would prefer it taken away, as 
I have none but females in my family.” 


172 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“It shall be removed within an hour.” 

The doctor and officers took their departure. 

“Go to your rooms, girls,” Joan said to those who 
remained in the hall, “it is not well for you to be seen 
when they return. You might be summoned as wit¬ 
nesses. ” 

The girls, with white faces and trembling limbs 
quickly complied, wondering what effect the sudden 
taking off of Uriah would have on their fortunes. 

When all had gone Joan yet stood gazing at the 
body on the bed. 

The eyes were wide open. She reached over and 
with a finger closed the lids down. 

A deep sigh welled up from her bosom. “I gave you 
birth, my hand has cut your life in twain. My sin and 
folly were to follow to this end. It was a sad day for 
me that I met your father. I loved him. He betrayed 
me. You were his son. First, for years, I would not 
own you. Your father’s money educated you—money 
he gave me bought this home. People wondered 
where Joan got her wealth. It was the price of her honor. 
After the fire, when I lay burned and near to death, 
I vowed if I recovered I would acknowledge to you 
that I was your mother. Then I had lost an eye and 
was disfigured. You had grown older. You might 
bear to think of me as your old nurse, but as your 
mother, as one who, unwedded, had brought you into 
the world, you repudiated my claims, and now, you 
ask that you remain Uriah Lawrence to the last. Your 
request shall be heeded. God judge between us.” 

A hand was gently laid upon Joan’s arm. “Aunt, 
dear Aunt.” 

“Yes, May, yes. You have heard this much, you 
must hear more. But first let me cover up his face. 


MOTHER CAN NEVER FORGET** 173 

Do you wish to look for the last time at his features, 
child? I foresee now, that you will feel abhorrence 
for the one who loves you.” 

“No, no, Aunt. Impossible!” 

“You must know, dear, that Uriah was my son. 

“Aunt, you were more sinned against than sinning. ” 

“God bless you for those words, May. They are 
true. ” 

Each gazed for a moment at the set face of the dead 
employment clerk, and then turned from the door. 

Ere they had reached the lower floor the patrol 
dashed up. Strong arms bore the body of Uriah from 
the chamber above and, in a moment more the wheels 
of the wagon were heard rattling over the stony street 
as the vehicle whirled away for the morgue. 

“But for you, May, I would wish to live no longer. 
Probably it would be best I should not.” 

“Do not talk so, Aunt. You know I love you, and 
now in your trouble, I shall love you more dearly than 
ever." 

"Nothing can be changed, dear. Sometime I will 
tell you more. At the inquest the dead man will be 
but Uriah Lawrence. 

“The morning papers will speak of him as such. 
His wife or the firm may give him burial. To us let 
him be as one who never was. Come. You can’t go 
upstairs again to-night. You must sleep some. As 
for me, I must think of the past.” 

At six o’clock in the morning Pearl was on her way 
home. When near there she heard the news-boys cry¬ 
ing: 

“Midnight tragedy on Center Avenue. Uriah Law¬ 
rence, employment clerk of the firm of Solomon, Goudy 
& C., shot dead at Colony Hall.” 


174 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Pearl’s hand trembled so that she could hardly grasp 
the pennies in the bottom of her hand-bag, but she 
secured a paper, and with the glittering headlines be¬ 
fore her, she walked on reading as she advanced. Ere 
she reached the door she realized what she had es¬ 
caped, and blessed Kate for having come for her. 

“It is thought,” said the article, “that Lawrence 
was infatuated with another girl who scorned his at¬ 
tentions, and that he sought her room, in order to 
force her to listen to him. This young lady, perhaps 
fortunately for her, did not occupy her room last night, 
but the landlady’s niece did. Her screams aroused 
her aunt, Joan Twitchell, who, seizing a Colt’s revol¬ 
ver, that she has kept in the house loaded for years, 
rushed upstairs. 

“The villain had locked himself in the girl’s room. 
Miss Twitchell burst the door open. Her niece lay 
before her, partly on the bed choked to unconscious¬ 
ness. The fiend still grasped her by the throat, and 
so intent was he on drowning her cries, that he would 
have strangled her to death. Miss Twitchell raised 
her weapon and fired. The wretch fell to the floor, 
shot through and through. He lived until a physician 
and two officers had been summoned, and to them 
stated that he alone was to blame for the fate that 
had befallen him. 

“The case is the more remarkable when we mention 
that Lawrence was the employment clerk of Solomon 
Goudy & Co., and that Aunt Joan, who fired the fatal 
shot, is a woman of 50 , well known to many of our old 
citizens, and a woman above reproach. She lost an 
eye in the great fire, but the loss of it did not impair 
her aim.” 

“He thought he had me by the throat. Thought to 


175 


“a mother can never forget” 

make me listen to him. What might have been my 
fate? Poor little May. She must have been frightened 
nearly to death.” Thus thought Pearl as she hastily 
entered the house. 

May met her in the hall. 

"I know all, May. I found it in the paper.” 

Now it is over, Pearl, I am glad fopyou, you were 
away. ” 

"How is your aunt, May?” 

"She is in the kitchen, as usual. The whole matter 
is a forbidden subject from this time forth.” 

Nevertheless, Pearl entered the kitchen. 

"I am glad you were away last night, Pearl. I have 
had all your things moved down on the second floor, 
to the room opposite Colony room. Flora will room 
with you. ” 

"Thank you, Miss Twitchell.” 

"No thanks, Pearl. Only never mention the matter 
again. May, ring the bell.” 

There was no small excitement at the store over 
the information contained in the morning paper. 

Mr. Solomon, of the firm, early called on the widow. 

"I know, Mr. Solomon. I have read the account. 
I should have applied for a divorce from Uriah in a 
week’s time. We have not lived together for two 
years. He wanted my stock in the firm in his own 
name. I would not submit. He was a calculating 
schemer, but I only found it out after I had married 
him. I have not seen his face for some months nor 
do I wish to see him dead. Bury him where you will. 
His treatment of me was such that I shall not shed 
tears over his grave.” 

The jury of inquest decided that Uriah’s death was 
merited, and he was borne away to a cemetery in the 
suburbs, and laid at rest. 


176 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Joan had ascertained that his wife would not claim 
his remains. 

“I cannot blame her,” she said. 

Yet, when the coffin was lowered into the grave a 
carriage might have been noticed standing but a short 
distance away. The door was closed but fora moment 
the curtain was pulled aside and a young face was 
pressed against the glass. Tears were coursing their 
way down the cheeks. 

"Can you see, dear?" asked a woman with bent 
form, who was sobbing convulsively beside her. 

"Yes, aunt, I can see. They are lowering the coffin 
into the grave." 

"Mark the place well, May. I may come here and 
pray. Bear with me. I think a mother can never 
forget. Let us go home.” 

May gave the signal strap a pull and the carriage 
swiftly passed from the cemetery. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE SON OF THE SENIOR MEMBER 

There was considerable anxiety among the salesgirls 
at the store for some months after the death of Uriah. 
Not but that there was anxiety enough before, but 
now the girls were fearful lest a new employment 
clerk might find their services undesirable. They had 
not much idea their pay would be reduced. It was 
at the lowest possible point already, and there was 
little hope that it would be raised, as the employment 
clerk’s services would be valued in accordance with 
the amount paid help, as well as in the help’s ability 
to sell goods. 

For three months the assistant bookkeeper acted as 
employment clerk, and as he had all he could do to 
attend to his books, he did not bother his head much 
about the girls. He discharged none, and employed 
but a few to fill vacancies. 

The middle of December Jacob Solomon, a young 
man of about 25 years of age and a son of the senior 
member of the firm, returned from an absence of a 
year or more in Europe, and he it was who was given 
the position of appointment clerk. 

Jake’s first step was to acquaint himself thoroughly 
with the abilities of the salesgirls already in the store, 
and as an initiating step the 20th of December, with 
pencil and book in hand, he started from his private 

177 


The Girl from Macoupiu 12 


178 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


office, and went from counter to counter through the 
whole establishment. There were five questions that 
he asked each saleswoman. 

When he reached the counter where Pearl was stand 
ing, he opened his book and laid it before him. 

"Your name, miss?” 

"Pearl Linwood.” 

"Age?” 

"Eighteen. ” 

"Married or single?” 

"Single.” 

"How long have you been with the firm?” 

"One year. ” 

"Residence?" 

"My home is in Macoupin county. I room and board 
here at what is known as Colony Hall, on Center 
Avenue." 

"Oh, yes, Colony Hall. I remember. That was 
where Uriah met his death. A number of girls room 
there—Pearl Linwood. If I remember rightly, that 
is the name of the young lady who it was said, Uriah 
was persecuting with his attentions. Are you the 
lady?” 

"Mr. Lawrence, sir, tried often to force unwelcome 
attentions on me.” 

"And was trying to on the night he was shot?” 

"I believe so, sir. I dislike to talk on the subject.” 

“I suppose it is not an agreeable one to you, but 
really, Miss Linwood, now that I have seen you, I 
don’t wonder at Uriah’s infatuation. But he must 
have been a fool or lost his head to be forcing his 
attentions where they were not wanted, and he a mar¬ 
ried man at that. So you get board at Colony Hall, 
Miss Linwood? I shall call there soon. I wish to 


THE SON OF THE SENIOR MEMBER 


179 


see the place where Uriah met his fate. Also to see 
the woman who had nerve enough to shoot him, and 
the niece who came so near being strangled." 

“What is your weekly pay, Miss Linwood?" 

“Four dollars, at this time, sir.” 

"I feel quite certain that I shall raise your pay to 
at least $4.50.” 

Jake passed on to the other end of the counter and 
questioned Annie, then left for another counter, mut 
tering: “Devilish pretty girl, Miss Linwood. Jakey, 
old boy, there’s a chance for you to use your pursua- 
sive powers." 

“What do you think of our new employment clerk, 
Pearl?" asked Annie. 

“I don’t like his appearance," said Pearl, “and then 
he told me he felt sure he should raise my pay. That 
argues but poorly for him in my opinion." 

“I noticed he eyed you closely.” 

“He stated that he should call at Colony Hall to see 
Miss Twitchell. I’m afraid it’s another Uriah.” 

“Bolder than Uriah, I think.” 

A week had not passed before Jake made his appear¬ 
ance at the house one evening. 

Flora was in the parlor when May admitted him, 
and she introduced him to her. 

“What, Miss May? whom Uriah nearly strangled?” 
he exclaimed, but May had started from the room. 

“Miss May!” called out Jake. I think Miss 
Twitchell is your aunt. Will you tell her I wish 
to see her?” 

“Certainly, sir.” 

May passed on, and Joan soon entered the parlor. 

“Miss Twitchell, this is Mr. Solomon, the new em¬ 
ployment clerk. A son of the senior member of the 
firm. ” 


i8o 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Good evening, madam. I called to see you. Have 
you all the young ladies you can accommodate?" 

“I could find room for perhaps four more." 

“I will send them to you. I do not wish the death 
of Uriah to cause your business to suffer, and such as 
I send, 1 will be responsible for their board. ” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

"I am inclined to believe you competent to protect 
those in your charge. Your courage, in rushing to the 
rescue of your niece, must give the girls confidence in 
you. Were you not terribly frightened when you saw 
the man fall ?” 

“I do not care to talk of that. Send the girls when 
you will. Flora will tell you my terms. You hardly 
pay your girls enough for them to exist on." 

“Those that are useful I shall try and pay more." 

As Aunt Joan was leaving the parlor Jake said: 
“Miss Twitchell, will you please have Miss Linwood 
notified that I would like to see her?" 

Pearl soon made her appearance. 

“Good-evening, Miss Pearl; as I called I thought I 
must see you. It can’t be agreeable cooped up here 
every evening. I will call for you to-morrow night to 
go to the theater. ” 

“I never go to theaters, Mr. Solomon. I have other 
matters that occupy my time. You will have to ex¬ 
cuse me." 

“Well,” thought Jake, “I am subdued early in the 
game." 

“You do your self injustice," he said. “You are at 
liberty to bring one of the other girls." 

“You doubtless will be able to find two of them who 
would like to go. As for me, it is impossible." 

Jake went home with his vanity very much hurt, for 
he had considered himself irresistible. 


THE SON OF THE SENIOR MEMBER l8l 

"Set down on by a shop girl,” he said. "Well, my 
beauty, we ll see. I am no Uriah to plead. I’ll try 
another course." 

Now, when Pearl had said that she had other en¬ 
gagements she had told the truth. For the past six 
months she had spent two or three hours at least every 
other evening, on the thoroughfares of Chicago, watch¬ 
ing the passing throngs. One evening on one street 
corner, the next night on another. From place to 
place. On Washington, Dearborn, Clark, Lasalle, 
Madison, and all the principal street corners, and at 
the railroad depots. She had been jostled by crowds 
while watching, hoping and praying, for a glimpse of 
her lost brother. 

Many times she had been noticed by officers, standing 
in one place so long and when an officer had approached 
and questioned her, she merely handed him an envel¬ 
ope. He would look surprised at seeing the stamp 
"City Police Department," on the outside. Next he 
would remove from the envelope a typewritten sheet. 

"This young lady’s business is legitimate. All police 
will give her protection. By order of 

Chief of Police." 

Many policemen had so frequently seen the patient 
waiting figure of Pearl on the corner of their beats, 
that they involuntarily looked for her coming when she 
was blocks away. 

Pearl many times was accompanied by Kate or Flora. 

May had been her companion often, and Joan and 
all the girls knew of her quest for a lost brother. 

"If he is alive," Joan had said, "he knows the way 

home. ” 


i 82 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Yes, Aunt Joan, but if he has gone astray. Shall 
we give him up? Not while I have life.” 

“You are a true woman, Pearl. May you yet find 
him. ” 

Now it so chanced that the very next night after Jake 
Solomon had visited the house at 8 o’clock, Pearl, with 
May, was on the corner of Clark and Van Buren street. 

They had been standing there nearly a half hour 
when a young man stepped out of a saloon door on 
the opposite corner. He chanced to look across the 
street and saw two girls standing on the corner. Just 
there a bright electric light rendered the girls’ feat¬ 
ures discernable. 

“Thunder!” exclaimed the young man, as he dodged 
back into the saloon, “if that ain’t Pearl Linwood and 
May Carter, the landlady’s niece, my name ain’t Jake 
Solomon. That’s the proper young lady that don’t go 
to the theater. She has an engagement every night. 
I guess she has. She’s here to fill one of them to¬ 
night. Pm on to your racket, my fair dame. You’re 
here to fill an appointment with some young gent. 
Both of you. Well, Pll watch." 

For some time Jake kept his eyes on the corner over 
the way. After awhile he saw an officer approach the 
girls and speak to them. He saw Pearl hand him an 
envelope, which he opened. He seemingly read the 
letter that he found in the envelope, restored it to the 
same, and returned it to Pearl. 

“Doubtless,” thought Jake, “the officer inquired 
what they stood there for so long. And the letter she 
showed him is a request from some man that she meet 
him there. I wouldn’t take fifty dollars for this. Let 
me be certain. Yes, it is them, sure.” 

“Hello, Jake, old boy, have something?” 


THE SON OF THE SENIOR MEMBER 1 83 

It was a sporting looking character of about Jake’s 
age that entered the door. 

Jake at first cursed the luck that brought this party 
around at this time—“Pshaw,” he thought, “there’s 
two of them. ” 

“Don’t care if I do, Hal,” he responded. 

They stepped back to the bar. 

“What is it, Jake?” 

“Whisky. ” 

“Ditto, Billy.” 

They drank their two whiskies, then two more, and 
started for the door. 

“Curse the luck,” said Jake excitedly. “Hal, I wish 
you had kept away from me.” 

“What’s the matter now?” 

“Matter! I was watching a couple of girls on that 
corner. Now I’ve lost them. They’ve gone.” 

“Girls? The devil! I thought you had enough of 
them around you all day at the store.” 

“The one in this case is no ordinary girl. She pre¬ 
tends to be very correct. She’s been the cause of one 
man’s death already. The other girl’s a little beauty. 
I’ll let you into the secret, Hal, and we’ll watch for 
them. They’ll be here another night. ” 

“This is a good place to watch for them.” 

“Well, meet me here to-morrow night. Keep mum.” 

“Come on. Let’s go to the theater. It’s late, but 
we’ll kill time.” 

The two sports passed on down Clark street. 

Pearl and May meanwhile had crossed the river at 
Van Buren street bridge, and were on their way home. 

“Pearl, don’t you nearly despair, sometimes, of ever 
finding your brother?” 

“Almost, May. But I can’t give him up. Think 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


of my poor old father and mother. I shall yet find 
him. ” 

“But, Pearl, when you have found him, may you 
not wish that you had not?” 

“I have thought of that, May. I cannot believe that 
my brother has fallen very low. There is a mystery 
in the matter that time alone will solve.” 

“I love to come with you, Pearl, to look for him. 1 
would love to be with you when you find him.” 

“Perhaps you may, dear. But why do you wish it?” 

“Oh, I like to see people happy, Pearl. And you 
would be so happy.” 

“You are a dear, good girl, May. I hope you will 
be with me.” 

Jake passed Pearl’s counter the next day. She was 
attending to her business as usual. 

“You little dream, my girl," thought he, "of the 
trap I have got you in.” 

That night before 8 o’clock, both he and his friend 
were on hand watching from the window of the corner 
saloon for the coming of Pearl and May, but that 
night they watched in vain. 

The next night they had no better success. 

The night of the 24th, Christmas eve, they waited 
in the saloon until nearly 10 o'clock. 

"We might as well give it up as a bad job," said 
Hal. “If you know it’s your shop girl, why not make 
her own up?" 

“No, we’ll catch them both right here. You see 
this is Christmas eve. To-morrow night they’ll be 
here sure. They’ll expect to be remembered by those 
they come to meet." 

“All right. I’m with you one night more.” 

“Two brandies, Billy,” sang out Jake. 



“You little dream, my girl,’’ thought he, “of the trap 
I have got you in.” 


Girl from Macoupio, p. 185. 































































































































































































. 































































































THE SON OF THE SENIOR '.IKHIRER 187 

“Here’s to the very good health of the two dames, 
we expect to meet on Christmas night on the cor- 


CHAPTER XVII 


“look out for women and preachers” 

At the hour at which Jake Solomon and his friend 
were watching for Pearl and May on the corner of Van 
Buren and Clark Streets, there were seated around the 
fire in the cozy sitting-room at Linwood, several of 
the characters we introduced earlier in this story. 

He in the arm-chair, with his feet on the fender and 
his long stemmed pipe in his mouth, is Eben Lin¬ 
wood. His features seem rather more careworn than 
they did a year ago, yet, one who had ever seen the 
man from Macoupin, would not mistake him. 

Seated in a rocker near him, and plying her knit¬ 
ting-needles industriously, while a purring cat lay 
curled up at her feet, was the farmer’s wife, while 
our old friend, Aunt Jane, was seated at a center table, 
and she had just finished a laborious task. 

Aunt Jane had been writing a letter. Suddenly she 
pushed back her chair. "There. I declare to gracious 
I’ve finished it. ” 

“Read it now, Jane," said Eben, “and let’s see if 
there’s anything else we want to add.” 

“I know there’s somethings I shall want added,” 
remarked a rosy cheeked miss that was seated near 
Uncle Eben. 

“Oh, you can write what you want to say, Maggie,” 
said Aunt Jane. “Yes, child. I know Pearl would like 
it all the better,” added Eben. 

“Well, here’s what I’ve writ,” said Jane. 

188 


“LOOK OUT FOR WOMEN AND PREACHERS” 189 

“Linwood, Dec. 24, 1888. 

My Dear Niece: —Merry Christmas from all of us. 
We send this letter, also what accompanies it, by Mark 
Ellis, who leaves for Chicago to-morrow, so you will 
get it Christmas night. You will find in the box four 
pair of good, warm, woolen stockings. They are 
enough warmer and better than any you can get there. 
The roast chicken was killed by your pa, and I roasted 
it. The two jars of gooseberry jam I also put up. The 
currant jelly was made by Maggie, and the mitts were 
knit by her. The five dollars is from your pa, who says 
you are to buy what you most need with it. We want 
to see you more than we can tell on paper. Your father 
talks of you all the time. If it wasn’t for Maggie, I 
don’t know what we would do. She takes care of the 
poultry, and does the work you used to do, besides 
she cheers us up, singing her Scotch songs, and helps 
us forget our troubles. Mark Ellis will hand you this, 
he is a true friend He still visits us often, and al¬ 
ways inquires for you. Your pa says it’s just to see 
you, Mark’s going to Chicago. He says Mark loves 
you. You know he seemed to be all broke up when 
he found you’d gone to Chicago. 

“Well, a year’s gone by and no news from Harry. 
Your father and mother would say for you to come 
home, as you can’t make more than a living there, but 
I don’t say so. I want you to stay another year. The 
boy is probably trying to make that money back, 
wherever he is. I believe we’ll find him yet. That 
mortgage has another year to run. I don’t know how 
your father will come out with it, but we hope better 
than the present outlook indicates. Of course he can 
look for no favors from Joel. The older he gets the 
meaner he gets. 

“Mark seems to tend to all of his outside business 
now, exceptin’ where there’s some one to be sold out 
on a foreclosed mortgage. Then Joel has to tend to 
it himself. They say Joel says that the only trouble 
wilh Mark is he’s too soft-hearted. He’s awful proud 
of Mark’s law lamin’, and actually gives him money 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


190 

enough to dress quite citified. You won’t hardly know 
him now. Now that’s all. 

“Your pa, ma, and Maggie send love. So do I. 
Mark will tell you anything else you want to know. 

Yoijr Aunt Jane. " 

“Well, that’s what I call a well writ letter, Jane. 
Jest like you do everything, it’s well done.” 

“Thank you, Eben. There’s a knock at the door, 
Maggie. Will you see who’s there? It’s Mark, I 
reckon. ” 

Maggie opened the door, and Mark entered. 

"Where’d you put your horse, Mark?” 

"I threw a blanket over him and left him tied in 
front of the house, Mr. Linwood. I can’t stop long.” 

“Well, are you goin’ to-morrow for certain?” 

"Yes. You see there’s a few law books that I need. 
I have the list and Judge Strong advised that I go 
up to Chicago and get them, stay a week and visit the 
law schools there, and some of the courts. He said 
I’d get new ideas, that would be a help to me. I had 
little idea I would be able to go, or to get the books. 
While we were talking Uncle Joel came in and the 
judge said to him: ‘Mr. Bland, if your nephew’s 
going to make a lawyer, there are some books he needs, 
that can be got in Chicago, and a trip there for a 
week, to visit the law schools and courts, at this time, 
would be of great help to him. I would give him let¬ 
ters to my old preceptors, Judge Driggs and others, 
that would insure his receiving attention.’ 

"‘Humph!’ said Uncle Joel, ‘do you think he’ll ever 
make much of a lawyer? He’s most too soft-hearted, 
ain’t he?’ 

'“Not he,’ said the judge. He’ll make an ornament 
to the profession. He’s better posted now than half 


“LOOK OUT FOR WOMEN AND PREACHERS” jgi 

the lawyers on this circuit. I would rather take lus 
opinion on a real estate title, sir, than of any lawyer 
in the county. You ought to know it’s value. He 
examines all your titles. Give the boy a chance. It 
will all come back.’ 

"'Make out the list of books for him, judge, and I’ll 
send him Christmas/ said Uncle Joel. ‘I guess I can 
spare money to pay his expenses there a week. Be 
sure and get in all the books he needs. If he must 
go, let him have all the advantage he can.’” 

“Well, I’m glad that for once your uncle has acted 
white. Jane’s got the letter and the box ready for 
Pearl. Now you’re sure it won’t be too much trouble?" 

"Trouble, Mr. Linwood, it’ll be a pleasure. I 
couldn’t think of going to Chicago and not seeing 
Pearl. There would be little pleasure in the trip, 
but for the hope of seeing her at the other end of it." 

"Thank you, young man, thank you." 

"I writ everything I could think of, Mark," said 
Aunt Jane. "Of course you can tell her lots. Here’s 
the box and here’s the letters. Maggie’s writing a 
few lines now to go along." 

"Find out, Mark," said Sarah, "how my daughter 
is getting along and all about it.” 

"Yes, Mark,” added Jane. "And be sure and visit 
the store and her boarding place." 

"Why, Jane,he’ll have to visit one on ’em to find her." 

"To be sure. I forgot.” 

"Here’s my letter, Mr. Ellis," said Maggie. 

"Well, I ll bid you all good-bye. I will have to be 
up late to-night when I get home, doing some writing 
for uncle." 

"Good-bye, Mark. God bless you, said Sarah and 
Aunt Jane. 


192 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Good bye, Mr. Linwood.” 

“Good-bye, Maggie.” 

“I’ll see you out to the buggy, Mark. Here. I'll 
carry the box.” 

“I’ll drive over as soon as I return, Mr. Linwood.” 

When Eben and Mark got to the buggy, Eben placed 
the box under the seat. “Now, Mark, I want you to 
find out jest how my daughter is situated, and if the 
life’s too hard for her, or her cicumstances ain’t what 
you think they should be, I want you to bring her 
home. Here’s ten dollars. I want you to take it with 
you for that purpose. If you don’t have to use it that 
way, you can either give it to Pearl or bring it back. 
Goodnight. ” 

Mark jumped in his buggy and whirled away as the 
farmer entered his house. 

The past year had not dealt very kindly with Eben. 
Nor was be prospering, as it was necessary he should 
in order to meet the mortgage on his home. The 
season had been a very poor one for crops. One of 
Eben’s horses had died in the spring, and late in the 
fall, the cholera had taken sixty head of hogs that he 
was fattening for market, leaving him scarcely pork 
enough for home consumption. He managed to keep 
from running further in debt, and had paid the inter¬ 
est, but nothing had been laid by to apply on the 
mortgage. 

“If the worst comes," Eben had thought, “we can 
mortgage again to take up this one." 

Arrived in Palmyra Mark put up his horse and en¬ 
tered the house. He found his uncle seated at his 
desk with the list of books that Judge Strong had 
made out for him. 

“I’ve figured up the cost of those books, Mark. 
What do you think it amounts to?" 


“LOOK OUT FOR WOMEN AND PREACHERS” 


193 


"Oh, perhaps twenty dollars, uncle. I fear, more 
than you will care to pay.” 

"Twenty dollars? Why, Mark, its’ sixty-five. 
There’s eighteen volumes. Law books, it seems, are 
expensive. ” 

“Then I must give them up, I suppose.” 

“Give them up? Who spoke of giving them up? 
When I put my hand to the wheel, I never turn back. 
I set out to make a lawyer of you. Judge Strong says 
you’re a good one now. You’ve worked hard. You’ve 
proved yourself. You should have those books, sir, if 
they cost five hundred dollars. But, sir, if you proved 
a worthless vagrant, I’d not have spent a dime on you. 

“Well, sixty five for the books. I don’t want you to 
stop at a second class hotel. You see law throws you 
with people of expensive habits. Don’t copy after ’em, 
but stop at a first class house, then your carfare, and 
perhaps you may find another book or two,anyway 
there will be other expenses. Here’s five twenty 
dollar bills. One hundred dollars. Do you think that 
will see you through?” 

“Why, Uncle, how can I ever repay you?” 

“That’s all right, boy. Only make a lawyer. Don’t 
make a makeshift. Don’t be soft and easy. Hew to 
the line every time. Look out for women and preachers, 
and I’m your friend. But what box is that you brought 
in?” 

“Oh. I was up the road and stopped in at Eben 
Linwood’s a few moments. It’s a Chirstmas box they 
wanted me to carry up to Pearl.” 

“Humph. You couldn’t well refuse, but as I said 
before, look out for women and preachers, and espec¬ 
ially women with no more prospects ahead of them 
than Linwood’s daughter has. Why, she’ll be a pau- 

The Gitl from Macoupin 13 


i 9 4 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


per one of these days. A year from now I’ll be the 
owner of Linwood. Eben can never meet that mort¬ 
gage. Let all women alone. That’s my advice, but 
if you marry, years from now, let your ambition reach 
higher than a farmer’s daughter and buckle tight to 
the law. Good-night,” and the old man passed into 
his room and retired. 

“Steer clear of Linwood’s daughter and buckle tight 
to the law,” thought Mark. “Buckle tight to the law 
I will, Uncle Joel, but as to steering clear of Lin¬ 
wood’s daughter your advice comes rather late. It’s 
thoughts of Pearl that spur me on in my ambition, and 
you would as relentlessly sell her father out of house 
and home as if she did not exist, nor can I now see a 
way to save Linwood, to the honest farmer whom adver¬ 
sity seems bound to frown on. But there’s a year yet. 
Many things happen in that time. Let me be thankful 
for what my uncle is doing for me now. But give up 
Pearl Linwood? Never!” 

A half hour more, and in his dreams Mark was 
promenading the streets of Chicago, and by his side was 
one whose hand was clasped in his. He turned his 
head to observe who it was. It was Pearl Linwood. 

"Pearl!” Mark spoke the name aloud and it awakened 
him. "Ah, uncle,” he exclaimed, "your advice came 
too late about Pearl, but I’ll buckle to the law.” 

He was astir early in the morning making prepara 
tions, and Joel Bland seemed to be fully as anxious as 
did he that everything should be in readiness. 

At two o’clock he accompanied his nephew to the 
train. 

"Good-bye, boy. Write to me as soon as you get 
there. If anything goes wrong, telegraph. Here. 
Take this and put it in your vest pocket," and he 
handed Mark another $20 bill. 


“LOOK OUT FOR WOMEN AND PREACHERS” 


195 


“Uncle, I won’t need it.” 

You can’t tell. Keep it till you get back, if you 
don’t. Look out for women and preachers.” 

The whistle sounded its signal. The bell rang. 
Uncle Joel stepped from the platform of the car, and 
Mark was en route for Chicago. 

Joel stood on the platform and watched the train 
until it was out of sight. 

As he turned from the depot tears stood in the old 
man’s eyes. 

Not a soul in Palmyra would have believed it. 

"Good boy! Good boy!” he exclaimed. "Fanny’s 
child. He couldn’t be other than he is.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

At seven-thirty o’clock sharp, on the night of De¬ 
cember twenty-fifth, Jake Solomon and his friend Hal 
Pointer, entered the saloon to take up their watch for 
their victims. They had taken several drinks and 
been on watch rather more than half an hour when 
suddenly Jake motioned Hal, who had gone forward 
to order two more drinks. He hastened back to his 
friend’s side. 

“What is it, Jake?” 

“Look there. What did I tell you?" 

“Thunder!" exclaimed Hal. “From here I judge 
they are both beauties." 

"To be sure they are, and we have got them dead to 
rights. You see, if I had accused Pearl anywhere else, 
of having been here on this corner to meet a man, 
she’d have denied it. Now she can’t.” 

“ Well, let’s get our whiskies, first." 

They stepped back and speedily downed the fiery 
liquid. 

“Now what?" said Hal. 

“Just follow me. You can judge by my course what 
to do. I shall monopolize the tall one. " 

"All right. I’ll take care of the other one." 

“Now’s a good time, while the police are at the 
other end of their beat." 

Across the street to where the two girls were stand- 
196 



Girl frgm Macoupin, p. 197. 






































THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 


199 


ing walked the two men. Their faces were flushed 
from the liquor they had been drinking, and they 
walked none too steadily. 

The girls were standing close to the side of the 
building, and Pearl was scanning the faces of the 
passers-by. 

She had not noticed the two men coming diagonally 
across the street. 

Suddenly she felt an arm around her waist, and the 
fumes of whisky were unpleasantly near her face, as a 
voice said: 

“Pearl, darling, won’t I answer as well as the other 
fellow? Come on. We’ll have a gay old time.” 

Pearl started back in horror. She recognized before 
her the new employment clerk, the son of the senior 
member. 

"You forget yourself, sir. Mr. Solomon, I thought 
you were a gentleman. Your hands off or I shall call 
for help.” 

“I know you, Pearl. You dare not. This ain’t the 
first time you’ve been stationed here to meet men. 
You and your fair companion too. Capture her, Hal. 
They can’t squeal. Come, sweetheart. We won’t wait 
for the other fellows. Come on,” and Jake threw his 
arm again around Pearl ’6 waist and bore her toward 
the crossing. 

At the same time Hal encircled May’s waist with 
one of his arms. "Come, my pretty bird. We have 
been long watching for you.” 

"A kiss, sweet Pearl.” 

Two shrill screams broke upon the air. 

"The devil!” 

Jake had hardly uttered the two words when a young 
man who was crossing the street with a box under his 


200 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


arm, dropped the box, leaped forward and planted a 
blow over his eye, that stretched him in the gutter. 

May was still struggling to escape from Hal, who 
now had her half way across the street. He had not 
seen Jake fall, and the first intimation he had that all 
was not smooth sailing, was a terrific blow behind the 
ear that brought him to his knees. 

May broke from his grasp and ran back to Pearl, 
who yet stood on the corner. 

The young man who had thus opportunely arrived 
on the scene stepped forward to offer his services 
further. 

As he neared Pearl, he halted for an instant, as if 
paralyzed, then with extended hands, exclaimed: "Pearl 
Lin wood!" 

"Mark! Oh, Mark!" 

Jake by this time was sufficiently revived to be sit¬ 
ting up in the gutter. He slowly arose to his feet. 

"So this is the party you came out to meet, is it?" 

"No, sir. But this is the party, thank God, that I 
did meet." 

“Then you admit that you have been on the street 
nights to meet men?" 

Tears for the first time gushed from Pearl’s eyes. 

"Night after night, sir, for twelve long months, 
winter and summer, I have been on the street, hoping 
and praying that I might meet a man. That man, 
Jacob Solomon, is my lost brother. Are you an¬ 
swered?" 

"Phat’s this? What are you two min dooin’. I saw 
this gentleman knock the two of yez down, from anent 
there. It’s a good man he is. Sure I’ll take the two 
of yez to the station." 

"To the station for speaking to a couple of street 
walkers?" said Jake. 


THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 


201 


Mark advanced threateningly again. 

“Hold off, young gintleman. It’s Officer Dooly has 
thim now. The blackguards.” 

“But we—” 

“Ye don’t know leddies whin ye see thim. This 
leddy has the protection of the whole polace force in 
her pocket, an’ its the Chafe himself that gave it to 
her. Av ye go to polace coort with the charge agin yez 
of insultin’ the daughther of the man from Macoupin, 
yez’ll get the benefit of the law. Faith, she has the 
whole foorce helpin’ her to find her brother. What’s 
your names, ye dirty snakes?” 

“Mine’s Tom Baker,” said Jakey. 

“Mine, Henry Brown,” declared Hal. 

“Devil a know, do I know, whether it is or no,” 
said the officer. 

Pearl thought quickly, and she decided that per¬ 
haps it would be as well not to expose the employment 
clerk. He had been pretty well punished. He was 
mud from his head to his heels. His stovepipe hat 
had been crushed, and a black ridge was under his 
eye. 

“We made a mistake, officer,” pleaded Jake, “and 
will beg the ladies pardon if you will let us go. We 
got the worst of it.” 

“1 should say ye did. Let’s see yez. An’ if they 
don’t want to appear agin yez I’ll let ye go to the 
divil. But if I catch ye on my bate agin, I’ll run yez 
in on sight.” 

“I beg your pardon, miss,” began Jake. 

“Git on your knase ye blackguards, when ye talks 
to the loikes av her, or I’ll run ye in anyhow, fer the 
insults ye gave her. Quick!” 

Down dropped Jake on his knees on the sidewalk. 


202 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“I beg your pardon, young lady.” 

“Now you, ye cur," said the officer to Hal. 

Down sank that worthy. 

"I crave your pardon, miss. I am thoroughly satis¬ 
fied that I was mistaken." 

"Now the two of yez beg the pardon of this gintle* 
man, fer givin’ him the trouble of knockin' yez 
down." 

Both complied. 

"It’s granted,” said Mark. ‘‘It was a pleasure.” 

‘‘Now, leddies, shall I let the meseribal schnakes 
go? or will ye appear agin them?” 

“If you please, officer, let them go. I think they 
have learned a lesson,” said Pearl. *'I do not wish to 
appear in a court against them. I thank you very much 
for your kindness. This gentleman is a friend of my 
father’s and my own. He also is from Macoupin.” 

“Give me your hand, me bye. What illegant po- 
lacemin them min from Macoupin would make. Go 
on, ye curs, lave me bate entoirely. ” 

Jake and Hal, mid jeers from all who had gathered, 
made their way in the direction of a bath-house, and 
Pearl and May, accompanied by Mark, who had re 
covered the box, went north on Clark Street. 

“Oh, Mark,” said Pearl, after they had left the 
scene of their troubles, “how strange it seems that 
you should have appeared there at that time of all 
others. But there is another than I owes you thanks. 
May, this is my friend. Mr. Mark Ellis, Miss May 
Carter. ” 

“I am sure, Mr. Ellis,” said May, “that but for you 
I don’t know what would have become of us. But 
how did you ever knock those two big men down?" 

“Well, Miss May, I rather think the whisky they 
had drank aided me.” 


THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 


203 


“This is the first time, Mark, that I have ever been 
insulted on the street. Nearly every night, for an 
hour or two, I am on some corner, looking for Harry. ” 

“Pearl, I see the sign, ‘Moulton House.’ This is 
the hotel your father told me of. If you will wait a 
moment, till I run up and secure a room, I will ac¬ 
company you home.” 

When Mark rejoined them Pearl noticed that he still 
bore the box. “Why did you not leave your box, 
Mark?” 

"It is for you, Pearl, from your old home. You 
know to-day is Christmas. I have two letters for you 
in my pocket. ” 

“Oh, Mark. I am so glad to see you.” 

"Thanks for those words, Pearl. I am more than 
glad to see you. ” 

“But how came you to come to Chicago, Mark?” 

“To get law books and visit the courts and the law 
schools. Strong, under whom I am reading law, ad¬ 
vised it. ” 

“But your uncle?’’ 

“Oh, uncle is fully as ambitious as I am, that I should 
become a lawyer. He gave me one hundred dollars 
to buy law books and defray my expenses, and what 
think you? Before the train left this morning he 
forced another twenty dollar bill in my hands.” 

“Why, how he must have changed.” 

“No, Pearl, he has changed but little. Indeed, I 
almost think h^is harder than ever, but in regard to 
my becoming a lawyer he says he don’t want any half¬ 
way work done. It’s the ambition of his life that I 
make a good one, and I shall try and do so, though 
not in all respects do I expect to come up to his stand- 

• ^ ti 

ing. 


204 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“My opinion of your uncle is greatly enhanced.” 

“It would not be, though, should I tell you all that 
he said,” thought Mark. 

“Are they all well at home?” 

“Yes, I was at Linwood last night. I found them 
all in good health.” 

“Is father gaining anything, Mark, with which to 
meet the mortgage?” 

“I didn’t ask the question, Pearl. He paid the in¬ 
terest for last year, but I fear he has not been able 
to—" 

“Poor father. Poor Linwood." 

“Pearl, how far do you live from here?” 

"About a mile, Mark.” 

"Can we not take a car?” 

“Yes. Here. This Madison street car will take us 
within two blocks.” 

They entered the car, and were soon at Colony 
House. 

Once in the parlor Mark opened Pearl’s box for her. 

She laughed and cried over the things from home. 

"There’s one thing yet, Pearl. A ten dollar bill that 
your father gave me, with instructions that if you were 
not situated as I deemed you should be, that I bring 
you home with me. That if I did not bring you back, 
that I should either give you the bill or return it to 
him. Pearl, I don’t like the way you are situated. I 
would like to take you home.” 

"Impossible, Mark, I cannot go home until I have 
ascertained what has become of my brother. I shall 
discover him, or find out all about him within another 
year, so pray do not tell father I am overworked, or 
that I am not well situated. I should die did I go 
home and give my brother up.” 


THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 205 

“Would I could help you, Pearl. 1 would make your 
pathway smooth had I the power, and it won’t be long 
before I will have it.” 

“I hope you will be successful, Mark. 1 know you 
will be. ” 

"If you knew the one ambition that stimulated me 
to a degreethat will overcome all obstacles, you might 
feel that for me success was assured." 

“The one ambition,” said Pearl, and her face red¬ 
dened. 

“Yes, Pearl. Before I return home I shall tell it to 
you. I shall be here for a week. May I call evenings 
when I can? I will go with you to search where you 
will. ” 

"Surely, Mark. Come as long as you are in the city. 
I shall look for you.” 

“Can I come through the store? I would like to 
see where you work. ” 

“Yes, you can come, but I will have li-ttle time to 
talk with you there.” 

Pearl thought of Jake and wondered what would be 
the effect of the night’s experience on her future. She 
was glad Mark was in the city. Should he see Jake 
in the store he would never recognize him. Jake 
surely was in no position to discharge her. Rather 
was she in a position to dictate terms. She could not 
afford to quit the house now, in the middle of the 
winter. There were too many idle girls looking for 
work. 

“I shall not expect to monopolize much of your time 
there, Pearl. But your father wished me to visit the 
store. ” 

“Certainly, Mark. I should be glad to have you.” 

“Well, it is late, now, Pearl. I will leave you. 
But I will drop in the store some time to-morro-w. ” 


206 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Wait until I call May. You must bid her good¬ 
night. She is a dear little thing, and you are a hero 
in her sight.” 

“Am I in yours, Pearl?" 

“Oh, you always were in mine.” And blushing at 
what she had said, Pearl ran out. 

May and Aunt Joan returned with her. 

"Mr. Ellis, our landlady, Miss Twitchell. ” 

Aunt Joan, siding around to get a good view, extended 
her right hand. 

“I am happy to meet you, sir. I want to thank you 
for so nobly protecting my dear niece, and Miss Pearl 
from a couple of rowdies. May told me about it.” 

“I could hardly do less, Miss Twcithell, ” said Mark, 
as he took her hand. “I was happy to be there to 
rescue them. As I shall be in the city a week I will 
see more of you. I am from Miss Pearl’s home, and 
she has said that I may call often while I am in the 
city.” 

“My niece and I will be glad to have you." 

“Indeed I shall,” said May, “for I haven’t got half 
through thanking you yet, for the two blows you 
struck. ” 

"Well, good night, Miss May, Miss Twitchell, good¬ 
night. ” 

Pearl accompanied Mark to the door, bade him good 
night, and the young man made his way to the Moul¬ 
ton House in a very happy frame of mind. 

“What do you think of him, May?” asked Pearl. 

“He’s splendid,” said May. “But, my. He must 
be as strong as a lion." 

Pearl soon after retired, and the last thought that 
flitted through her mind, ere she fed asleep, was : 

“What can be the one object that stimulates Mark 


THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 


207 


to that degree that he feels that he can overcome all 
obstacles to attain it?” 

Pearl’s eyes sparkled and she whispered the words; 
"I think—I think I know.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


a mother’s ring 

It required considerable resolution on Pearl’s part 
to enable her to face the ordeal of meeting the man 
who had so grossly insulted her, by again entering 
the store of Solomon, Goudy & Co. 

‘•Shall you return to the store?” Aunt Joan had 
asked at the breakfast table. 

T shall return to day at least,” Pearl had replied^ 
“and see what the prospect is. The employment clerk 
and his companion must feel very much humiliated, I 
think. Officer Dooly made each of them get down on 
his knees in the mud and slush of the street, and 
ask our pardon for insulting us. They gave false 
names. Jake Solomon knows I could have his name pub¬ 
lished, far and near. Fear will cause him to use dis¬ 
cretion. " 

“I don’t think he’ll ever come here again,” said May. 

“You don’t know him, May. He will be here with¬ 
in a week, and make out he’s as penitent as you please > 
and that he didn’t know what he was doing,” said 
Joan. “And if I forbid him the house, as I should 
do, he would discharge every girl that continues to 
board with me, and would never send me another one 
here. It would be worse for me, and maybe worse 
for the girls." 

“I advise him not to appear here when Mark is 
around,” said Pearl. “But here come the other girls. 

208 


a mother’s ring 


209 


It is useless saying anything about the matter in their 
presence. ” 

At 7 o’clock Pearl was behind her counter, and it 
was but little after eight when a call girl notified her 
that the appointment clerk desired her to report to 
his office. 

“How I do loathe that man,” thought Pearl. “Yet 
I’ll face him. He dare not insult me again. At 
least I will soon know his intentions." 

She soon entered the office door. 

Jake was seated before his office desk, looking the 
model of propriety. He showed not a sign, save for 
a discolored eye, of his downfall of the night before. 

Perhaps he flushed a little as he glanced up, and 
his eyes met those of the young lady he had insulted. 

“Miss Pearl. '’ he said, “in checking the sales of the 
various clerks for the past three months, I find that 
you now rank among our best salesladies. From Jan¬ 
uary your salary will be five dollars a week, and . you 
will have control of your department.” 

Pearl was paralyzed—a raise of a dollar a week as 
a result of Jakey’s mistake of the night before. 

“I only ask, Miss Pearl, that you will forget last 
night’s affair entirely, as far as I am concerned, or at 
least say nothing about it. I can only plead that I 
was drunk.” 

“What is to become of Annie, sir? If I am to have 
charge of our counter?” 

“I shall place her in charge of the ribbon counter 
January 1st. It will be necessary that you have a new 
girl to assist you. You yourself may select one. Let 
me know who you select before the month is out. I 
will start her in at four dollars a week. Does this 
arrangement satisfy you?” 

The Girl from Macoupin 14 


210 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"Entirely, sir. I will try and attend to my duties. 
I am also glad for Annie. She too has those who are 
dependent on her to some extent. Pray, will her pay 
be advanced? If not, I should dislike to supplant 
her in our department, as she has been there longer 
than I. ” 

"Her pay shall be the same as yours if you request 
it." 

"No, Mr. Solomon. I have no favors to ask." 

“Well, it shall be the same anyway. You may tell 
her. That’s all. ’’ 

"I thank you much, sir, for your advancement.” 

"Don’t mention it. ” 

Pearl left the office and closed the door behind her. 

"There,” said Jake, "that will close her mouth. I 
was afraid she would say something and the papers 
would get hold of it. Lord, but they would roast me. 
I wouldn’t have the old man get on to it for a pretty 
sum. But, wouldn't he growl if he knew that lark 
was about to cost the firm two dollars a week. Pshaw! 
I’ll reduce on some of the other girls, or discharge a 
couple, and make the others work harder. Pearl will 
probably select May Carter for her assistant. Well, we 
failed the first time, girls. But look out. I’m d—d 
if all the humiliation I suffered is to go for naught. 
First drown your suspicions, then we’ll set a trap, 
and pretty Pearl and May will be the ones that on 
their knees will sue for pity if not our pardon. Gods! 
But that was rough. Down on our knees in the mud 
and slush before a couple of shop girls. Thunder! It 
makes my blocd boil to think of it. 1 must bring 
some influence to bear to have that Officer Dooly dis¬ 
charged. 

"Pearl under police protection. The devil. No 


A mother’s ring 


211 

wonder we got the worst of it. And then that young 
countryman. He must be a prize fighter. Lord what 
a blow, and Jake pulled a vial from his vest pocket 
and bathed his eye with the solution it contained- 

“I guess I’ll go around to Kinsleys to breakfast. 
Hal may be there,” and he arose from his seat and 
passed out of the store. 

Meanwhile Pearl had returned to her counter. 

“Your news can’t be bad, Pearl,” exclaimed Annie 
as she caught sight of her face. 

‘ Good or bad,” replied Pearl. “Good, for both your 
salary and mine will be advanced to five dollars a 
week from the first of January.” 

“Pearl Linwood, you’re crazy, or else that appoint¬ 
ment clerk is. ” 

"No, Annie, my news is correct. But now comes 
the bad part of it. After the first of January we will 
be separated. You will no longer be in this depart 
ment." 

“What can you mean, Pearl?” 

"Mr. Solomon wished me to inform you that you 
would be placed in charge of the ribbon counter from 
the first day of the year. I am to remain in charge 
of this counter.” 

“How came it all about?” 

“Well, when I first entered the office Mr. Solomon 
said : ‘Miss Pearl, in examining the record of sales 
I find you stand mong our best salesladies. From Jan¬ 
uary first your salary will be five dollars a week, and 
you will be in charge of your department. ’ I asked him 
what was to become of you. 'I shall place her,’ he 
said, 'in charge of the ribbon counter.’ I asked what 
pay you would receive, he said five dollars a week. 

I told him you had been in this department longer 


212 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


than I and that I did not wish to supplant you. He 
stated that an assistant at this counter would not receive 
more than four dollars a week, but that your pay at the 
head of the ribbon department would be the same as 
mine at this. Now you know all about it.” 

“I know I owe you all my good fortune. But who 
will aid you at this counter?” 

”Mr. Solomon told me I could select some one.” 

“Why don’t you select May?” 

"I don’t believe Aunt Joan would let her come, but I 
shall ascertain to-night.” 

About 12 o’clock Mark suddenly appeared before 
Pearl’s counter. He was surprised at the bevy of lady 
clerks he encountered. At his solicitation Pearl and 
Annie accompanied him out to lunch, and while they 
were lunching Pearl told him of the advance she would 
receive in her salary, and that she must find an assist¬ 
ant. 

Mark looked thoughtful a moment. 

“How would it do,” he said, “should you select 
Maggie? If you remain with a hope that you may 
one day recognize on the street your brother, might 
she not have an equal chance of meeting her father?” 

“I had thought of her. You know now she is suffi¬ 
ciently well posted in American ways. But, could 
they spare her at home?” 

“I am satisfied they gladly would, if she was with 
you. ” 

“She would have a much better opportunity than I 
did when I came.” 

“Yes, and she would be a good companion when you 
are out, as you were last night. Maggie would make 
a formidable antagonist for such wretches as I en¬ 
countered. She is young and as strong as a lion.” 


A mother’s ring 


213 


When they had finished their lunch Mark accom¬ 
panied the girls back to the store, and from there he 
proceeded to Judge Drigg’s court. 

That evening Pearl made known the change in her 
prospects to May, “And you shall be my assistant, 
May, if your aunt will let you go.” 

“Oh, how jolly, Pearl. But Pm afraid she won’t. 
She has not been very strong since the night of Uriah’s 
death. I don’t think she will allow me to go from 
home. ” 

So it was. When Aunt Joan was told the situation 
she said: “I am very glad for you and Annie, Pearl, 
but I can never allow May to leave my sight to work 
in a department store. I know too much about them. 
Besides, there is no necessity. When I die she will 
inherit all I have. My will is already made. It would 
break my heart to have her exposed to what you know 
she would be. ” 

"Aunt, dear,” said May, throwing her arms around 
Joan’s neck, “I shall never leave you.” 

Thus ended May’s short-lived ambition to become a 
department clerk, and when Mark came around after 
supper, Pearl told him she had determined to secure 
the place for Maggie. “I can get along for a week 
Mark, without an assistant,” she said, “and when you 
get home you can represent things as I tell you, and 
Maggie can write me at once.” 

“Yes, that will do. I shall go the last of the week.” 

The next day Pearl called in the office a moment 
and told Jake the assistant she had selected would not 
be on hand for several days after the first of January. 

"All right,” he said. “I presume the work won’t 
be very heavy for a week or two, after the holidays. 
When she comes bring her to me. Are you mad yet?” 


214 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“You requested that I say nothing of that affair,” 
said Pearl, “I do not choose to.” 

Saturday night Mark was up at the house for the 
last time before taking his departure for home. He 
had procured his law books and received marked at¬ 
tention from those to whom Judge Strong had written. 

"Now, Mark, you are quite sure you can represent 
the matter correctly to father and Maggie?” said 
Pearl, as they were seated on the sofa in the parlor 

“Oh, yes. 1 am certain of that, and I am almost 
certain Maggie will come. I shall represent to your 
father that if you have not found Harry within a year 
you will return. And now we have that matter arranged. 
Do you remember, Pearl, before I left I was to tell 
you of the object that spurred me on to win success 
at my chosen vocation. Shall I tell you now?" 

Pearl blushed scarlet, as she answered: "If you wish 
to, Mark." 

“Can you not guess, Pearl?” 

“I—I think not.” 

“Don’t you know, Pearl, the object is your hand. 
Your heart. You know I love you,” and Mark grasped 
her hand. 

"Oh, Mark, Mark! You have them both now.” 

“Dear Pearl. Then you will be my wife?” 

“I will, Mark, when I shall have found my brother. ” 

“Or, failing in a year, Pearl. What then?” 

“Then, Mark, I shall listen to you.” 

“I shall advise your father to let Maggie come, and 
tell him you will spend next Christmas at home. Now, 
sweetheart, right here,” and Mark took a small ivory 
case from his pocket, opened it, and produced a hand¬ 
some diamond ring, “I have a treasure that I prize 
next to your love. It was my mother’s engagement 


Mark follows his uncle’s advice. 


Girl from Macoupfs, p. 216. 

























































































































































































* 






































A mother’s ring 


217 


ring. Hold here your finger, love, if you will be 
mine. ” 

“Oh, Mark. Your mother’s ring? A diamond ring? 
Will it he safe for me to wear it?” 

"There should be virtue in a mother’s ring, dear, 
to ward off evil. I shall be happier when I think of 
you with that ring on your finger. There have been 
times when it was a hard matter for me to keep it. 
Now, I thank God that I suffered and have it to place 
upon this finger. There let it rest until I claim the 
hand." 

“I shall never remove it, Mark.” 

“Well, I must go now, to catch the train. One kiss, 
love. ” 

For a moment Mark clasped her in his arms. Their 
lips met. A moment more and he had passed from 
her presence, and within an hour was en route for 
home again. But many a time before the cars drew 
up in front of the depot in Palmyra did he think of his 
uncle’s words: “Look out for women and preachers, 
and buckle to the law.” 

Mark laughed aloud when he recalled the words. 

“I’ll heed you, Uncle Joel. Pearl ain’t women. 
She’s just one sweet girl. I love her and she will be 
my wife. But I’ll buckle to the law, uncle, I’ll buckle 
to the law.” 


CHAPTER XX 


POVERTY FLATS 

At six o’clock on the evening of January ioth Pearl 
and May were waiting in the passenger depot of the 
Illinois Central when the train came in. 

Pearl made a bee line for a rosy cheeked lass that 
she saw descending from one of the coaches. 

"Maggie! Maggie! Come on, May. That’s the 
girl we’re looking tor.” 

The two girls were soon locked in a loving embrace. 

“I knew you would come, Maggie. Was my father 
and mother willing? And Aunt Jane? Oh, I am so 
glad to see you. May dear, this is Maggie. Ain’t she 
nice?” 

“I am glad to see you, Maggie, ' said May. "Pearl 
has been talking about you constantly for the past 
week. ” 

“Well, let us go, girls. But, Maggie, what did 
father say? Are they all well? And, Mark?” 

"They are well, Pearl, and I have two letters for you. 
One from your father, the other from Mark. They 
all wanted me to come, when they found that I could 
be with you.” 

"Just like them. No matter how lonely they might 
be. Did my father bring you to town to the depot, 
Maggie?" 

"No, Pearl, Mark came after me. He seems very 
happy since his return from Chicago, and he told your 

218 


POVERTY FLATS 


219 


father you would not be in Chciago more than another 
year. I half suspect, Pearl, there was more than law 
books that brought Mark to Chicago. But I am aw¬ 
fully glad he came.” 

"And so am I," said Pearl. 

The three girls were not long in reaching Colony 
House, where all had now been arranged so that Pearl 
and Maggie were to occupy the room on the third 
floor, where Uriah had lost his life. It was the only 
room Joan could spare to two girls, as at that time, 
in most of her rooms she had from four to six. 

The next morning Maggie accompanied Pearl to the 
store, and at eight o’clock the two girls entered 
Jake’s office. 

"Mr. Solomon, this is the young lady I have selected 
as my assistant. Miss Maggie McCullam.” 

"Good morning, Miss Maggie,” said Jake. "If you 
succeed as well as Miss Pearl has, we can ask no 
more. Your red cheeks and sparkling eyes certainly 
denote good health. I will record your name on the 
register. I presume Miss Pearl has told you your pay 
will be four dollars a week for the present. You will 
room, I suppose, where Miss Pearl does. What is your 
age?” 

"Seventeen, sir.” 

“Your home is where?” 

"Maggie is from my home, Mr. Solomon, Macoupin 
county. ” 

"More Macoupin county people,” thought Jake. 
"I must look out for parties from Macoupin.” 

"That is all,” he said. "Miss Pearl will post you 
on your duties. By the way, Pearl. Now that you 
are at the head of your department it would be well 
for you to go round to poverty flats, where the shirts 


220 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


and ties for your department are made, and tell Raman 
to hurry up that last order of shirts. Your supply of 
dress shirts must be getting low." 

"Some numbers I have none of, sir." 

"I know. We always let the stock run down at the 
end of the year. An order has gone in for a hundred 
dozen. I wish you would go by there on your way 
home. Take Maggie with you. You will learn things 
that will be useful to you in your business. Examine 
into the manufacture of neckwear, and hurry up any 
lines you are out of. Make out your list before you 
go.” 

"On what street is Poverty Flats?” 

"To be sure. Ewing Street. No. 125. It won’t be 
far out of your way.” 

"1 will go, sir. Is that all?” 

"All that I think of, Pearl. But take one of the store 
cards with you.” 

The two girls went back to their counter. 

"Saint Peter! that was a healthy looking girl,” said 
Jake, after the door had closed. "Almost as hand¬ 
some as Pearl. I must tell Hal about it. I wonder 
if it wouldn’t be a good plan for us to go over to 
Joan’s together. I haven’t had the face to show up 
there since the night I encountered the gentleman from 
Macoupin. The devil take him. Well, we shall see." 

At six o’clock Pearl and Maggie crossed the Van 
Buren Street bridge and turned south on Canal Street 
to Ewing. This street they followed west. 

It was apparent that they were in a poverty stricken 
part of the great city, by the shabbily dressed men, 
women and children they passed on the street, and 
saw standing in the door-yards. 

Ashes and filth had been dumped in the street to 


POVERTY FLATS 


221 


fill up sink holes, and the further they advanced up 
the street, the more nauseating became the atmos¬ 
phere. 

Maggie, unused to the city, clung to her compan¬ 
ion’s arm. 

"I wish,” said Pearl, "we could have made this 
trip in daylight." 

Grown women they met on the street bareheaded 
and scantily clothed. Blear-eyed staggering men. 
Children clothed in rags with tin buckets and bottles 
bound for the bar-rooms. 

"One hundred and twenty-five. Here it is, Maggie. 
This three-story brick. Mercy! Look at the number of 
windows broken out, and the rags stuck in. Murder! 
See the hungry looking and pinched faces." 

"Well, come, Maggie, we must go in.” 

The building fronted on the street. Pearl opened 
the outer door. A hallway extended entirely through, 
and from it doors opened on either side and a stair¬ 
way led to the floors above. 

They could now hear the din of voices and numerous 
machines. Half the plastering was off the walls, and 
what was left was grimy with dirt. 

Pearl knocked on an inner door. 

In a moment it opened and a forlorn looking woman 
appeared in the doorway. One baby was in her arms, 
another was clinging to the ragged skirts of her calico 
frock. 

"Will you come in?” 

The two girls stepped into the room. 

The air was stifling. The furniture of the room 
consisted of a broken stove, a half dozen chairs, a 
board nailed up crossways in one corner, on which 
stood a wash basin and a water bucket, an unpainted 


222 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


deal table, and a rickety old bedstead, which stood in 
close proximity to the cook stove. 

On the bedstead was a dirty mattress, that had once 
shown stripes. Now it was all of one color. 

The mattress was partly covered by an old woolen 
blanket, and lying on this was the thin, attenuated 
frame of a man. He was partly covered by a piece of 
old carpet, but his thin, bony hands were lying exposed 
to view, and his big blue eyes were apparently fixed 
on the ceiling. His cheeks were hollow, and a hectic 
flush overspread his face. 

The eyes of Pearl and Maggie lingered on that fear¬ 
ful scene. 

"My man is most gone,” said the woman. "He’s 
had consumption ’bout two years. He’ll soon be bet¬ 
ter off than we are. Work as hard as we kin we can’t 
keep him in medicine, and feed the children.” 

Seated near one window was a pale-faced young 
woman of scarcely more than twenty years of age. It 
must have taken nearly all of her strength to keep the 
machine moving on which she was stitching away 
her life. 

"This one here is my man’s sister. Poor thing, 
making pants is most too heavy work for her. But 
Raman had nothing else for her this week.” 

"I wish to see Raman. Where will I find him?” 

“Oh, its’ him you come to see? He’s up with the 
girls on the third floor. Have you more work for him?” 

"I am come to hurry up some shirts for Solomon 
Goudy & Co. ” 

“I’ve got a bunch of them on the bed in the other 
room. My little girl is sewing on the buttons." 

“How many pair of these pants can you make in a 
day? Pearl asked of the young woman at the ma¬ 
chine. 


POVERTY FLATS 


223 


“Well, miss, they come to me all ready cut out. I 
finish up six pair a day, with Hattie, the little girl at 
the window there, to sew on the buttons.” 

"What does Raman pay you?” 

’’Nine cents a pair.” 

"So you and the girl together are able to make 
fifty-four cents a day?” 

“Yes, while this work lasts. But I’m at it from five 
in the morning till ten at night.” 

"Do you own your machine?" 

"No, Mr. Raman charges me one dollar a week for 
that." 

"Horrible! Do you know what begets for finishing 
these pants?” 

“Eighteen cents a pair, I believe." 

"Let me see the shirts you are making, Mrs.—" 

"Teenier. My name is Teemer. Come this way.” 

They passed into another room. In it were two bed 
steads, and one mattress on the floor, and seated on it 
was a girl of perhaps fourteen, sewing buttons on the 
shirts that were piled up on the matress before her. 

As she finished each shirt she threw it back of her 
on another bed. 

On this bed Mrs. Teemer deposited the baby she held 
in her arms, then she raised the other one. 

"You play with Sissy now, Tommy. That’s a good 
boy. I’ll get you something to eat." 

"Something to eat. Something to eat,” repeated 
Tommy. 

"These, is some of them shirts, ” said Mrs. Teemer, 
"and whatl’ve got will be finished to-morrow. Here, 
you see they’re scattered all over the floor. I’d had 
’em done before but we run out of coal, and couldn t 
work fast, for our fingers were numb. We got a quar- 


224 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


ter of a ton yesterday. You see there’s six of us sleep 
in this room besides the children.” 

“Six of you?” 

“Yes, my oldest daughter and two of my sisters are 
up on the third floor.” 

"How much a day can you make at this work, Mrs- 
Teemer?” 

“Well, of course, this is all hand work. Minnie 
and I between us average about thirty cents a day, by 
working early and late.” 

“If I can arrange any way to help you, I shall do 
so. I doubt whether I can. I am in the service of 
Solomon, Goudy & Co.” 

“It’s a hard firm, miss. A hard firm. But if we got 
the work first handed we wouldn’t suffer as we do now. 
It’s them as runs the sweat shops and gets the con¬ 
tracts that grinds us the worst.” 

“Have you a physician to attend to your husband?” 

“We had one twice, and he said he could do no 
good. Just to give him cod liver oil.” 

“Has he that?” 

“Yes, but he’s getting too weak to take it.” 

“Well, we must go upstairs before it is too late.” 

“God bless you miss, for your kind words." 

“Good night, Mrs. Teemer. We shall come again. 
I will try and bring something for your husband.” 

A moment more and the two girls were on their 
way up to the third floor. 

They passed many open doors and saw beyond a 
repetition of the squalor and poverty in the first room 
they had entered. 

Through one doorway they saw a woman weeping. 
Rocking herself to and fro on a low rocker. Her hair 
was hanging loose and in utter abandon, she was wail- 


POVERTY FLATS 


225 


ing: “My child! my boy. Oh, God! How could you?” 

The girls entered the door. 

“My dear woman,” said Pearl, “can I do anything 
for you?" 

The woman jumped to her feet, threw her long hair 
back, and clutched Pearl by the arm. 

“Making cloaks, at a dollar and twenty cents each, 
where by working from daylight until midnight I could 
make but three a week, caused that. Three dollars 
and sixty cents a week, and from that one dollar and 
a half room rent to pay, coal and food to buy, I have 
starved to buy medicine for my boy, and now he's 
dead! I wish I could die too. I can! I will! Do 
you think it is wrong for a woman who has lost all to 
die? First, my husband killed by the cars, and now, 
Bert, my boy, my son! ground to death by the star¬ 
vation wages paid by those who clothe the rich. Say, 
tell me. Is suicide wrong for such? Didn’t God 
place the possibility of self-destruction in poor peo¬ 
ple’s hands that they might escape their misery? I 
think he did. Ha ha! I think he did.” 

“My poor woman, have you no friends? Js there 
no one you can look to now?” 

“There is the mercy of the sweat shop. Of the 
sweaters. The human fiends and ghouls who live and 
fatten on the lives of helpless women and children, 
Little do the public know when they buy their articles 
of wardrobe from these big department stores, the mis¬ 
erable sums paid to those who made the garments—do 
you see those cloaks? There’s germs of scarlet fever 
in every one. I shall live to complete them, and may 
they carry to the hearts of the pampered dames who 
wear them, the misery and woe, that they have brought 
to mine. May their children droop and die. Yes 

The Girl from Macoupin 15 


226 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


and thousands more, until such time as the women ot 
America will patronize alone those manufacturers 
who pay their sex wages on which they can hold soul 
and body together. But why are you here? Did you 
seek me?” 

"No, my dear woman, I was seeking Raman. He’s 
on the floor above.” 

"A human vulture. Go not near him.” 

“ I must see him on business. But have you no one 
else?” 

"I have a ten year old girl. She has gone for the 
doctor. Little good can he do now. But he told me 
this morning my boy could not live.” 

"Where will you bury your child?” 

“By his father, miss. Charity steps in sometimes, 
after death enters the family. My husband belonged 
to an order that will lay his child beside him.” 

"I work for Solomon, Goudy & Co., Mrs. — ” 

"Carlton is my name. I am sorry for you. Then 
you too, are unfortunate.” 

“I wish I could aid you, Mrs. Carlton." 

Both Pearl and Maggie were shedding tears. 

"Thank you, dear girls. There is nothing. But 
should you hear that I had joined my boy, will you try 
and find a home for my Lottie? For my little girl?” 

"That is wrong, Mrs. Carlton. You owe it to your 
child to live. From my position I may be able to 
rescue you from the sweater. I can try." 

"God bless you for your sympathy." 

The girls were soon on the floor above. 

The din of the sewing machines here was loud and 
continuous. 

When Pearl knocked on the door it was opened by 
a sickly looking young girl and they passed in. 


POVERTY FLATS 


227 


The room they entered was some fifteen feet wide 
and possibly forty long, and in it were fully eighty 
women and girls, stitching away for dear life. Some 
on machines, some sitting on stools, or in some cases 
even on the floor sewing by hand. 

“Oh, what a thin, half starved looking set,” Maggie 
whispered. 

“I’m afraid, Maggie, Mrs. Carlton told the truth. 
That they are working for human vultures. They cer 
tainly don’t get enough to eat. I wish to see Mr. 
Raman,” Pearl said to the girl who opened the door. 

"He is back in the office,” she said, "follow me.” 

The girls followed down through the center of the 
room to the front of the building where the girl tapped 
on the door. 

"Come in,” said a gruff voice. 

Pearl opened the door and they entered the den of 
the sweater. 

He was a bald-headed little man, and sat at his desk 
figuring up profits or losses. It could not have been 
losses. 

"Veil, you girls, vant vork?” 

"No, sir. I believe this is Mr. Raman?” 

"Yes, dis is Raman. Raman de shweater, dey calls 
me. I likes to know how anyvone vorks midout 
shweating?” 

"I am from Solomon, Goudy & Co.'s. I am now at 
the head of the neckwear, shirt, collar and cuff de¬ 
partment. Our best grade of shirts are nearly sold 
out. Mr. Solomon desired that I come by and ask 
you to hurry them up.” 

"My Lear young ladies. Take a seat, both of you, 
and get rested. You shall haf fifty dozen of dose 
shirts to-morrow, if I vork efery voman I haf until 
midnight.” 


228 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Oh, I wouldn't work the poor things so late,” said 
Pearl, “it must be nearly eight o’clock now.” 

“Oh, the later they vork the more thay earn. Don’t 
you see?” 

“Those four-in-hand ties are also wanted. Have 
you not an order for them?” 

“Yes, I haf an order for a dousand. Come, I vill 
show you vere de girls is making dem. I tink you can 
haf half of dem to-morrow." 

The girls followed the sweater to one corner of the 
large room, where twenty women and girls were at 
work on the ties. 

“Vere is Mrs. Laban?" 

“Here I am, Mr. Raman.” 

“How is dem dies coming on, Mrs. Laban?” 

“The girls is vorking on de fifth huntret now.” 

“Veil, dey must finish dat five hundret before they 
guit work to-night. The firm has solt out all they 
haf, an’ fifty dozen of dem vite shirts must go to¬ 
morrow. ” 

"I dink, Mr. Raman, dat dey vill be reatty. Vait, 
young ladies, a minute, until Mr. Raman and I see.” 

They walked off to the other end of the room. 

“How many of these ties can you make in a day?” 
Pearl asked one of the young women. 

“By commencing promptly at six o’clock, and work¬ 
ing until half after eight, I can make one dozen. You 
see these ties are silk, and the work must all be done 
by hand.” 

“Certainly. And you receive for the work?” 

“Three cents for each tie.” 

“Only three cents for making a seventy-five cent 
tie? Only thirty-six cents a day? and on that you 
must pay room rent and live?” 


POVERTY FLATS 


229 

"Oh, some days I make fifty cents. I often work 
until midnight.” 

Here Mr. Raman came back. 

"Shust as I dold you, young ladies. To-morrow you 
vill get fifty dozen of the vite shirts." 

"Well, we must go, now. It is getting late. I am 
almost afraid to walk this street alone.” 

"1 shall go as far as Van Buren Street with you. 
Sompoty might tink you haf money, and dry to get it 
avay. ” 

As they passed the room where the child lay dead 
from scarlet fever a little girl ran in at the door. 

"He’s coming, mamma. The doctor’s coming.” 

“It’s too late, my child,” answered the mother, "your 
brother is dead. Scarlet fever has done its work.” 

"Scarlet fever!” exclaimed Raman. "Gracious me, 
Mrs. Carlton, vere is dem gloaks dat ain’t finished?” 

"There on the bed with my dead boy.” 

"Hellup me, gracious! Vooman, vould you ruin me? 
And the doctor goming? Vait a minute, young vomen, 
and Raman bounced into the room, gathered up the 
cloaks, rolled them up in a big bundle, and placed 
them under the bed. "There, dat ish better. Ven I 
gome back, Mrs. Carlton, I vill gome in. You vill 
need vat money ish goming to you, and as you are a 
reliable voman, I will advance a small sum to you in 
your drouble. Come, young ladies.” 

Raman accompanied them as far as the corner of 
Halsted and Adams, and from there they proceeded 
alone. 

They were so late reaching home that they found 
Aunt Joan and May quite alarmed for fear something 
had happened them. 

"But, I’ve saved supper for you,” said Joan. "And 
now what detained you?” 


230 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Pearl told her and May of their experience. 

“People talk about the blessings of machinery, ” said 
Aunt Joan, “but I have always said, and I maintain 
it yet, that the sewing-machine has been a curse to 
the female sex. It has robbed a million women in 
America of a chance to make a living. It has cut 
their wages to nothing. It has driven thousands to 
seek a livelihood through avenues of shame.” 

Pearl and Maggie sought their rooms ere long after 
they had finished their supper. 

"I never dreamed,” said Maggie, “of the misery 
and sin that exists in a great city. When I think 
what might have come to me but for your father, I shud¬ 
der. My father seems lost to me. I also wish to help 
my new father pay that mortgage.” 

“Dear Maggie, we will try to help him. We must.” 

“God won’t let him come to harm, Pearl.” 

“I think not, Maggie, but it makes me sad, to think 
of the misery and woe in Poverty Flats.” 

“And think, Pearl, of the unfinished cloaks that may 
carry the germs of disease into many a household to 
rob fond parents of their dear ones." 

“It’s horrible, Maggie, horrible! That poor woman 
is at the point of desperation. She blames the whole 
world for her woes. ” 

“Yes, but look at that fiend, Raman. Hiding the 
cloaks from the doctor. What cares he where they 
carry disease. Shall you report him to the firm?” 

“What would they care, so they sold the cloaks? 
To be sure I will speak of it. But I will be told that 
the cloak department is not presided over by me. In 
twelve months I have learned the ways of the firm of 
Solomon, Goudy & Co.” 

“That poor woman whose husband lies at the point 
of death. What a sad case that is.” 


POVERTY FLATS 


231 


I shall either go or send the Chiebof Police a note 
as to those people’s needs. He will see that they are 
relieved. ” 

Sad thoughts cannot keep people awake always, so 
Pearl and Maggie finally slept, but even in their sleep 
they were back again reviewing the horrors of Poverty 
Flats. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE ANGELS OF THE ATTIC 

Maggie had been at the store about two weeks, 
when one evening, shortly after supper, who should 
call at the house but Jake Solomon and his friend Hal 
Pointer? 

To Aunt Joan, who admitted them, Jake was all 
politeness. He raised his hat as he entered the door 
and said : 

“Miss Twitched, whatever you may have heard of 
a very grave offense of which I was guilty, when one 
night I allowed myself to drink too much wine, do not 
misjudge me from it. No one could more regret it 
than I. Both my friend and I were out on a lark, as 
it were. Indeed I wish you well, and all the girls. I 
have tried to keep your house filled up. If you can 
accommodate more, tell me, and I will send them to 
you. ” 

"My rooms are quite full at this time, I thank you. 
I am glad to hear that you regret your conduct of 
Christmas night. " 

"Will you tell the young ladies we have called! At 
least Pearl, Maggie and your niece?” 

“I will tell them, sir.” 

Aunt Joan found the three girls in the dining-room. 

“Girls,” she said, “Jake Solomon and another young 
man are in the parlor. Jake asked me if I would notify 
you three that they were here. He begged my pardon 

232 


THE ANGELS OF THE ATTIC 


233 


for their behavior on Christmas night. Of course you 
can do as you choose about responding to their calls* 
should you not, we might gain his enmity. You girls 
might lose your positions, or, if he thought you were 
following my advice you would probably be notified to 
find a boarding house elsewhere. I judge you had 
best try and keep on the right side of the employment 
clerk, if you desire to stay with the firm, and you, 
Pearl, particularly. As you have just got to receiving 
decent pay. As for May, she may go as far as the 
parlor, but not outside with them.’’ 

"Oh, we’ll go in the parlor,” said Pearl, "but, in¬ 
deed, neither Maggie or I would go further.” 

The three young girls entered the room together. 

The young men were very circumspect in their be¬ 
havior, and profuse in their apologies for their bad 
conduct while under the influence of wine. Pearl 
consented to play and sing, as did also May, and Mag¬ 
gie sang a few Scotch ballads as only a Scotch lass 
can. After perhaps an hour and a half the young men 
took their departure. 

"If they would behave as well as they have to-night, ” 
said May, "we would have no fault to find. But it 
made me shudder whenever I thought of Christmas 
night.” 

"I don’t see,” said Maggie, “how we can help re¬ 
ceive them, as we are situated, and yet I hope they 
won’t come here often.” 

"I predict,” said Pearl, "they will come all too 
often. ” 

“This was an initial trip, to break the ice," said 
May. "They were on their good behavior. It will 
not be a week before they will be inviting us out.” 

"What, the three of us!” exclaimed Maggie. 


234 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Perhaps not May, for they must know her aunt 
would object to her going, and then, she don’t work 
in the store. The employment clerk has no hold upon 
her, but he will expect you and me to go.” 

Pearl was right. The young men had been on their 
good behavior for the sake of making a favorable im¬ 
pression, and a week had not passed before they called 
again. This time they brought candies, nuts and fruit, 
and prolonged their call until after ten o’clock. 

They were more hilarious. Any embarrassment they 
may have felt because of their insult to the girls on a 
former occasion had worn away, and Pearl saw plainly 
that in some manner ere long, their calls must be 
checked. v 

It was but two or three evenings before they were 
there again. And thereafter their visits became so 
frequent as to become exceedingly annoying. 

Jake became urgent that they should accompany 
them to the theater. 

May, of course, had the excuse that her aunt did not 
wish her to be out evenings, and when they called, 
generally found much to do, helping Joan. But Jake 
pretended to feel very much hurt that Pearl and Mag. 
gie should decline to go. 

“Why,” he said, "I have advanced and given you 
both employment. Why should you decline to give us 
the pleasure of your company? I can not understand 
it. We are not vampires. Surely you cannot lay up 
that error of last Christmas against us.” 

"After all day at the store,” said Pearl, "we feel 
little like going to the theater in the evening.” 

Still the girl’s refusal did not keep them from con¬ 
tinuing their calls, and while they were in the house 
neither Pearl or Maggie could well refuse to go into 


THE ANGELS OF THE ATTIC 


235 


the parlor when they were sent for. Some evenings 
they were so fortunate as to get away from the house 
before they called, and on those occasions they would 
take a trip down town and watch passers-by on some 
street corner for an hour or two, but nearly always they 
would find them there when they returned. 

“You can’t go to the theater with us,” Jake would 
remark, but you can go down town on your search, 
night after night. If you would go with us you might 
succeed in finding your brother. ” 

The girls managed to bear their attentions which 
became more and more oppressive, until near the 
middle of June, by which time Jake and his compan¬ 
ion had succeeded in making their lives almost a bur¬ 
den. 

Recently, on several occasions they had joined Pearl 
and Maggie on the street, and accompanied them 
home. Nor were they to be gotten rid of. 

One evening after supper Pearl said to Miss Twitch- 
ell : 

“Aunt Joan, I have come to the conclusion that we 
can stand it no longer, and it is our duty, both to our¬ 
selves and you, to find another boarding house. Per¬ 
haps, with Maggie and I gone, you would be relieved 
of the constant calls of these two men. At any rate 
we can remain at Colony Hall no longer. When we 
are gone they will hardly continue to so much mo¬ 
nopolize the parlor. We shall find a place to morrow. 
Meanwhile say nothing about it.” 

“I think your plan a good one,” said Aunt Joan, “in 
fact I see no other way for you to get rid of their at¬ 
tentions. The question is if you can get rid of them 
in that way.” 

“There seems to be no other. ” 


236 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"No, and should you move the cause to Jake must 
be apparent. He might discharge you both.” 

"Better far, than that we should continue to receive 
the calls of such unprincipled men. We have borne 
it too long. ” 

"Of course Jake will ask me the first evening they 
call, where you have removed to.” 

"Tell him you don’t know, Aunt Joan. For a few 
days we will keep you in ignorance.” 

"He will certainly ask you the next day, Pearl.” 

"I shall inform him that we are where we can not 
receive calls. ” 

“Well, you can try it girls. It certainly is unbear¬ 
able as it is.” 

The next morning in looking over the papers among 
the many places advertised Pearl selected one where 
she concluded to call. 

The advertisement was as follows: For Rent —Two 
attic rooms for light house-keeping. Respectable 
parties only. $8 a month. Apply on the premises. 
No. — Laflin street. 

At noon Pearl visited the location and found a one- 
story frame cottage with an attic above. 

To her knock on the door a middle-aged lady re¬ 
sponded. 

"Madam,” said Pearl, "I called to inquire in regard 
to those two rooms.” 

"I will show them to you. I am a widow, and my 
entire family consists of myself and my son. The 
lower floor of the cottage is sufficient for us, and I de¬ 
termined to rent the attic, could we find suitable ten¬ 
ants. For instance a gentleman and his wife, or two 
ladies. ” 

"In this case," said Pearl, "you would have as ten- 


THE ANGELS OP THE ATTIC 


237 

ants, two girls from a down town department store. 
You would see little of us in the day time.” 

“I judge you would make very acceptable tenants. 
I dislike noisy people, and as my son is an artist, 
and works at home, I could not rent to people of that 
class. ” 

There was an entrance to the attic from the outside. 
The two rooms were over the main part of the cot¬ 
tage, and large and pleasant, with closets. That is, 
large as to floor measurements. The ceilings were 
low. 

The rooms were neatly furnished. A bedstead, a 
bureau, sofa, three chairs and a rocker in one, and a 
small cook stove, dining-table, culinary articles, etc., 
in the other. 

Pearl was much pleased with them, and rented them 
then and there, paying a month’s rent in advance. 

"We may move in to-night, Mrs. Gray. Perhaps not 
until morning.” 

"Keep the key, Miss Pearl, and move at your lei¬ 
sure. Should you need assistance when you come, call 
on us. ” 

Pearl thanked the widow and returned to the store. 

"Maggie," she said, when she gazed into her ex¬ 
pectant eyes, "it was a jewel of a place, and I rented 
it and paid a month’s rent in advance.” 

"How much we have lost by not taking the step be¬ 
fore. But if Mr Solomon don’t like our step and dis¬ 
charges us?" 

“I am quite certain he won’t like our step, but it 
had to be taken. I don’t think he will discharge us. 

I heard him tell Mr. Goudy that we sold more goods 
than any two girls in the house, and then I can't but 
think he’s a little afraid of me yet." 


238 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


About Jtialf an hour before the time for closing, Jake 
came around. 

“Miss Pearl, we are coming up to-night to hear some 
music. I suppose you will not go out with us.” 

“We shall not be at home to-night, Mr. Solomon,” 
said Pearl. “We have an engagement. ” 

“One of the usual kind, I suppose," remarked Jake; 
we will not call until late,” and he passed on. 

“As soon as the girls were freed from the store they 
hastened to Colony Hall. Pearl procured an express 
wagon on the street corner. 

“What does this mean, Pearl?" exclaimed Flora, 
who entered the gate as her trunk was going out. 

“Only, Flora, that Maggie and I are moving." 

“Where, pray? And have you consulted the firm?” 

“We have said nothing to Jake, Flora, and as to 
where we are moving, excuse me if we keep you in 
ignorance for a week or so." 

“Exactly, Pearl. I understand. I don’t blame you. 
But I doubt if it will do any good.” 

When the trunks were loaded Pearl and Maggie 
bade the inmates of Colony Hall good-bye. 

“And remember, Aunt Joan, that you don’t know 
where we have moved to. I shall tell May, for I want 
her to come and see us, but she must tell no one else 
unless it should become necessary. Good-bye,” and 
the girls took their departure, and a half hour later 
were ensconced in their attic on Laflin street. 

Together they visited a neighboring grocer and when 
they returned a lad accompanied them with a goodly 
basket of stores for their larder. 

“At least, Maggie, we can now live in peace, and I 
think we can better help father with the mortgage 
than we could have done by remaining at Colonv 
Hall." y 


THE ANGELS OF THE ATTIC 


239 


The two girls retired at an earlier hour than usual, 
much better pleased with their prospects than they 
had been since Maggie was in the city. 

Meanwhile, at half after eight, two men were stand¬ 
ing on the piazza of the residence on Center Avenue. 

“They may not have returned yet, Hal. If they 
have not we must wait. I think we are wearing them 
out. They will be glad to capitulate ere long.” 

To Jake’s summons at the door, Joan responded. 

When she had shown them into the parlor, Jake re¬ 
marked : ' Miss Pearl informed me at the store that 
she expected to be out for a while this evening. Have 
they yet returned?” 

“Pearl and Maggie have left the house, Mr. Sol¬ 
omon, They have found another boarding place.” 

“Left the house? Do you mean to tell me, Miss 
Twitchell, that they no longer room here?” 

‘ They have found rooms elsewhere, sir, and have 
removed their baggage.” 

“Pray, madam, when did they take this step?” 

"To-night, when they came from the store.” 

“Miss Pearl said to me she had an engagement to¬ 
night, but I had no idea it was of that nature. Neither 
of the girls informed me of an intention to change 
their boarding house.” 

“I suppose,” said Joan, “that they considered it 
a matter of no moment to you 

“Why they knew,” said Jake, “particularly Pearl, 
that I have always taken an interest in seeing that 
your rooms were well filled. How could you room 
and board the gir’s at the price you do, unless you 
had plenty of them? And then, we like to know where 
our girls are. After we have found a place for them 
we don’t like them to leave without consulting us. 
But where have they gone?” 


240 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“They did not inform me. Neither did I ask them.” 

“Indeed. Little consideration they showed you. 
Are you not afraid, unless I lay down the law more 
firmly, you will lose more of them?” 

“I have no desire to keep girls here after they have 
become dissatisfied or when they desire to go else¬ 
where. ” 

“Well, I shall ascertain why they left you to-mor¬ 
row. You have no idea?” 

“I think they desired a place where it was more 
quiet. I believe their time here was too much monop¬ 
olized to suit them.” 

“Perhaps I may arrange so that they will have all 
the time they wish. Will you ask Miss May to come 
in and play for us? Also Flora?" 

“I will ask Flora and Belle. My niece is unwell." 

When Joan left the room Jake remarked to his com¬ 
panion: “The devil! Hal. They have given us the 
shake altogether." 

“They seem to have tired of our society, Jakey old 
boy. ” 

“Never mind, Hal. We'll learn them a lesson. I 
might give them both the bounce, but I won’t. We’ll 
just take a little more time and see who comes out 
ahead.” 

Flora and Belle, as in duty bound, entered the par¬ 
lor, where they remained until the two men left, nor 
did they tarry long. The three principal magnets 
were not there. 

The new tenants in the widow Gray’s cottage were 
early risers the morning after they moved in, for now 
they must get breakfast themselves. The task was 
not a difficult one to them, and the meal consisted of 
a greater variety of dishes, and was far more enjoyed 
by them than had been a breakfast for a long time. 


THE ANGELS OF THE ATTIC 


24I 


About ten o’clock in the day Jake sent for Pearl to 
come to his office, and when she entered the door his 
words were : “Miss Pearl, why did you leave Colony 
Hall, when you knew it was my wish that you remain 
there?” 

“I could not suppose that you much cared, and I 
desired a more quiet place. Besides expense is an 
item with Maggie and me. My father has a mortgage 
to meet this fall. We wish to be in a position to help 
him.” 

“How do you know I am not ready to help you? In 
fact that my friend Hal and I are not willing to help 
you and Maggie pay the mortgage?” 

“We do not wish you to, sir. Is that all?” 

“Where have you removed to, Pearl?” 

“To the private residence of a widow, where we have 
secured two rooms, but where we can receive no gentle¬ 
men callers, as we have no room to receive them in. ” 

Jake’s face flushed almost crimson. “She might as 
well tell me out and out, we moved because there 
was a room to receive callers at Colony Hall,” he 
thought. 

“You can go,” he said. 

Pearl went back to her counter thankful the ordeal 
was over, though she knew not what to expect from 
the employment clerk. 

As for Jake, his first remark after she had closed 
the door was: “I must find out where they room.” 

At the noon hour he met Hal Pointer and they took 
lunch together. 

“So the girl refused to tell you where they room 
now?” 

'Yes. She said that gentlemen could not call there, 
as they had no room to receive them. ” 

The Girl from Macoupin 16 


242 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“You have no idea where it can be?” 

“No, but we must find out. We can’t be defeated 
by a couple of shop girls. I will know within a week. ” 

But somehow a week passed and Jake had not found 
out. Several times he essayed to follow the girls but 
he found he could hardly do that without being seen. 
He casually asked several of the girls from Colony 
Hall where they had removed to, but none could tell 
him. 

July and August passed and he had not yet ascer¬ 
tained. He had been to Colony Hall, in company 
with Hal but twice since Pearl and Maggie had re¬ 
moved. On those occasions they had learned nothing 
Several of the girls knew, and so did Joan, but they 
could learn nothing from them. 

May had spent many evenings with the girls, and 
Flora had been with her once or twice, but the secret 
was safe with them. 

One evening in the latter part of September Jake 
called at the house somewhat earlier in the evening 
than usual. Hal was with him. 

There was no moon, but the stars were shining 
brightly, and the gas well lit up the streets. Just be¬ 
fore they got to the house the gate opened, and two 
female forms passed out. One a little ahead of the 
other. 

“Hold on, May, wait for me.” 

Jake seized hold of Hal’s arm. 

“Luck’s with us. That’s Flora and May, and I’ll 
bet my boots they are going to see our girls. We 
will ascertain where they live.” 

They followed at a safe distance until Laflin street 
was reached, when they allowed May and Flora to 
pass south on the west side of the street and kept 
nearly opposite them on the east side. 


Drinking to the Angels of the Attic. 


Girl from Macoupin, 


























































































THE ANGELS OF THE ATTIC 


245 


They traveled fully three blocks on Laflin when the 
two girls stopped before the cottage of Widow Gray. 

May rang the bell to the side door, and in a mo¬ 
ment it opened. 

“I thought it was you, May. And Flora, too? We 
thought you would be here.” 

“Yes, Pearl, you don’t know how lonesome Colony 
Hall is since you and Maggie left us. Why, even the 
company you ran away to escape have ceased to trouble 
us.” 

“Well, come up, girls.” 

They stepped into the hallway and closed the door. 
Jake and Hal could hear the noise caused by their 
feet as they ran up the stairs. 

“At last,” said Jake, “we’ve found them in an attic. 
They ran away to escape our company. Devilish poor 
taste they have, Hal.” 

“Well, I should say so. We have them spotted all 
right enough." 

“Shall we wait here until May and Flora come 
out?” 

“No, we have learned enough for to-night. There 
would be nothing gained by that. If we were to ap¬ 
proach May and Flora, Flora would tell Pearl to¬ 
morrow that we had them located. Again, you can’t 
tell how long they may stay, and we will be noticed 
watching the place. Let’s go? We must lay our 
plans now, before taking further action." 

In ten miuntes they were on a Madison street car 
bound for down town, where their first act was to drimk 
two bumpers of old rye. 

“We’ll drink," said Jake, “to the two pretty dears, 
who don't appreciate us. The angels of the attic.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE NEW SECTION BOSS 

The reader will remember the dark November morn¬ 
ing when Harry Linwood stood on the Rush street 
bridge and meditated seeking a grave in the murky 
waters beneath. 

It will also be remembered that he abandoned that 
last resort of desperate men, suicide, and jumped into 
an empty freight car in the Chicago and North- 
Western R. R. yards. 

The morning was raw and cold, and as the train 
sped away over the prairie he was forced to keep up 
pretty lively motion to keep from freezing to death. 

He had no idea for where the freight was bound, or 
over what road he was taking a free ride, but he did 
know that he was leaving Chicago behind, and as day¬ 
light dawned, and the face of the sun appeared in the 
east, he shoved back the door of his car, and glanced 
in the direction of the city. 

“Good-bye Chicago. I sought you full of hope and 
anticipations. I leave you a disheartened tramp. No, 
that’s wrong. I am a passenger, ha, ha, a dead-head 
passenger, with a whole car to myself. My poor old 
father. God knows my intentions were all right, but 
I misinterpreted the howling of that dog. I would I 
had not entered that gambling den. Yes, or drank 
that whisky. Father and mother would never believe 
that of me. There will be sad times at Linwood for 

246 


THE NEW SECTION BOSS 


247 

they must believe me dead, until such time as I can 
redeem my honor, and replace that five hundred by as 
many thousands. 

"Strange how my heart begins to lighten as I leave 
the scene of my disasters behind. What a fool I was 
to dream of suicide. Young and strong, with those 
who love me at home. The idea shall never enter my 
head again. I can work. I will work Thank God 
I am warmly clad.” 

At noon the freight stopped on a side track at a 
country town, and Harry saw the engineer and con¬ 
ductor enter a building that had above its door the 
sign "Meals 50 cts. ” He jumped from his car door 
and entered a bakery adjoining, where he purchased 
twenty-five cents worth of rolls and doughnuts and 
then entered his car again unobserved. 

The next stop was at seven o’clock at night. The 
atmosphere seemed much cooler than it had in the 
morning, and Harry began to doubt his ability to 
stand a night's travel in his car. As yet he had passed 
through no place that looked inviting to his eye. At 
anyrate he was not far enough from Chicago. 

"I will get a cup of coffee here,” he thought, “and 
try and stand the ride until daylight.” 

He jumped from the car door again and entered 
the lunch room near the track. Standing at the coun¬ 
ter were the engineer and conductor. 

"Well, partner, ’ said the engineer, “you find it pretty 
cold in that freight car, don’t you? I saw you jump 
from the door. You must have a job up the road to 
be beating your way on a freight this time of 
year. ” 

"This is the first time in my life, gentlemen," said 
Harry, "that I was ever reduced to such straits. I can 


248 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


only say I met with a misfortune in Chicago and lost 
all my money. I jumped in that empty car not know¬ 
ing for where your train was bound, nor caring. My 
only desire being to leave Chicago behind, and find 
work of some kind.” 

“You mean to say you don’t know what road you’re 
on,” said the conductor. 

“I know now, for when I left the car at noon for 
something to eat, I saw I was on the Chicago and 
Northwestern. ” 

“Yes. You are on the Dakota division. You are 
not going toward warm weather.” 

"Oh, I am not a warm weather bird,” said Harry. 
“I can stand cold weather. What I want is work.” 

"How much further do you want to go?” 

"I don’t know, and I don’t much care. I would like 
to go until I strike someplace where I can find work.” 

"Let’s take the young fellow to Huron, Jim. Col¬ 
lins may be able to give him work. What’s your name, 
partner?” 

"Harry Lin—” 

"Harry Lin, what?" 

"Just Harry Lin.” 

Harry had thought in time. "I had best not bear 
my father’s name again until I have redeemed my 
honor. ” 

"Well, young fellow, you strike me as being all 
right. You are well dressed and don’t look like a 
professional beat. Come in the caboose and we’ll take 
you as far as Huron. We may get you a railroad job 
there. ” 

Harry hastily drank his coffee, returned to the car 
and got his valise, and proceeded to the caboose, 
thanking his lucky stars that he had encountered such 


THE NEW SECTION BOSS 


249 


clever people as the engineer and conductor of the 
freight, and that there was at least a prospect ahead 
for work. 

There was a good coal fire in the caboose, and he 
could now pass the night in comfort. 

"Did you ever work on a railroad?" asked the con¬ 
ductor. 

"Not a great deal," said Harry. "I worked on a 
grading contract one summer when at home.” 

"So you jumped the train at Chicago, did you?" 

“Yes, just as you pulled out." 

"Oh, we wan’t on the train, then. We relieved the 
crew that brought her out from Chicago at the station 
before the last. You remember Johnny was saying 
that perhaps Collins could give you work?" 

"Yes. ” 

"Well, Collins is road master of the Dakota division. 
His headquarters are now at Huron. He appoints 
all the section bosses, and hires lots of men. Of 
course not so many in the winter, but there is always 
some. A section boss died here about ten days ago, 
and I don’t think he’s got a satisfactory man to take 
his place. The section is on a dead level prairie and 
only twelve miles from Huron. There ain't much work 
to keep it up. You couldn’t fail. You’d have four 
men to work with you. The job wouldn’t be a bad 
one for the winter. Of course you’d be out in cold 
weather, over the road everyday, and might get caught 
in a blizzard, but you couldn’t get lost, you’d never 
be away from the track. " 

"Blizzards would not frighten me." 

"Well, just tell Collins that you’ve worked on 
grades, and he’ll hire you. I’ll speak a good word 
for you, and so will Johnnie." 


250 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay you 
both for your kindness. It ain’t every day that a man 
in need of friends finds them so readily.” 

“Oh there are worse people in the world than rail 
road men. But, I was about to say, your pay, if you 
get the job, will be sixty dollars a month. You can 
live on that all right.” 

"Oh, yes, and save money too. ” 

“Are you a married man?” 

"I am not.” 

“Well, you’ll find a shanty about midway of your 
section where the section boss and his hands stay. 
You can keep bach.” ' 

“If I get the job.” 

“Yes, if you get the job, and I reckon you will, if 
Johnnie and I both say so.” 

That night Harry stretched out on a bench before 
the fire and slept like a top, and when the train pulled 
into Huron about eight o’clock in the morning, he 
was altogether a different man from what he would 
have been had he spent the night shivering in the 
freight car. 

One of the first men they met when they left the 
train, which here passed into the hands of another 
crew, was a large, fleshy man on the depot platform. 

"Good morning, Mr. Collins,” said the conductor. 

"Good morning, Jim. Well, Johnnie, how does 
your engine run this morning?" 

“Smooth as a whistle." 

“This young man’s name is Harry Lin,” said Jim. 
“He’s out of work. He’s worked on grading contracts 
on the Illinois Central. You told us if we found a 
good man to take Coulter’s place to bring him along. 
I guess this man will fill the bill.” 


THE NEW SECTION BOSS 


251 


“Thank you, Jim. Do you want the Job, Lin?*’ 

“Yes, sir, if you think I will suit.” 

All you have to do is to keep up your section. If 
you do that, you’ll suit. If you don’t, you won’t. A 
month or two will tell. If you don’t hug the stove too 
close I guess you’ll suit.” 

“I’ll do the work, sir, no matter what the weather.” 

“I’ll answer for him,” observed Jim. “A man that 
could jump a freight this weather and ride ten hours 
in a wheat car, ain’t afraid of cold.” 

“Well, the job is yours, young man. I’ll send you 
out to the section at three o’clock. Have you got any 
money?” 

“Very little. A couple of dollars, perhaps.” 

“Well, you’ll need that before payday. Come in 
and I’ll give you an order for what rations you want. 
Your pay will be sixty dollars. You’ll find four men 
at the section house when you get there." 

The engineer invited the new section boss to take 
breakfast with him, and thereafter Hairy bade good¬ 
bye to both him and the conductor, and visited a store 
where he laid in a month’s provisions and at three 
o’clock, armed with his commission, he jumped on 
a train going west and was put off at the twelve mile 
section. 

Now, living in Dakota at that time was more ex¬ 
pensive than it is now, and there were too many ahead 
of Harry to be in the way of promotion very soon, so 
a section boss he remained from the middle of Novem¬ 
ber, 1887, until the fifteenth of September, 1889, when 
despairing of promotion in the immediate future, he 
went to Huron one day and resigned his commission. 

“Sorry to lose you, Lin,” said the roadmaster, 
“you’ve kept your section in good order. If you want 


252 THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 

to come back at any time, Pll open a place for you.” 

Harry thanked him and drew his back pay. After 
all his debts were paid he had to show for the time 
he had been in Dakota, eight hundred and fifty dollars. 

“I have enough, ” he thought, "to meet the mortgage. 
But when it shall have been met, there is no outlook 
ahead. I shall have to leave home again and skirmish 
for more. I have not succeeded in obtaining the thou¬ 
sands I dreamed of. Well, there are two months yet 
before the mortage falls due, but I can hardly hope 
for an opportunity to find a fortune in that time.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A COUPLE OF TENDERFEET 

One evening after supper as Harry was sitting in 
the office of the Huron House, a gentleman with a 
sandy beard, apparently about forty years of age en¬ 
tered the hotel. 

He had a valise in his hand and had been a pas¬ 
senger on the train which had just arrived. He stepped 
up to the register and on it recorded his name. 

While he was in at supper Harry stepped up to the 
counter and examined the register. 

The last name recorded was, Hugh Cullam, Chi¬ 
cago. 

“I’ll ask a few questions about Chicago, when he 
comes out,” thought Harry. 

He did not have long to wait. 

Cullam came out and took a seat at one side of the 
office, and lighted a cigar. 

Harry approached and took a seat beside him. 

"Excuse me, sir. You are Mr. Cullam, I believe, 
from Chicago. My name is Lin. I left Chicago 
something less than two years ago, and may return 
there. I thought I would inquire of you as to how 
times are there now.” 

"Well, friend Lin, as I left the place fully two years 
ago, I can give you little information. My registering 
from there misled you. I was formerly a wealthy man, 
there. In an unfortunate speculation on the Board of 

253 


2 54 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Trade, I lost my money. I lost it all. I left the city 
at once, and for the past two years have been work¬ 
ing at my trade, in various sections of Minnesota and 
Dakota. That is, when I have found work to do. I 
am a millwright. I have been able to pick up a few 
hundred dollars, but what does that amount to these 
days? Nothing. A man must almost have as many 
thousands, now, as he has hairs on his head to be re¬ 
spectable. He must certainly have no fewer than he 
has fingers and toes, to live above want.” 

"True, sir. I am sorry to say that while my wealth 
was not large, I also lost all I had in Chicago, Less 
than two years ago, and left the city in disgust. Since 
which time I have been working as section boss on 
the railroad near here. I have now quit the company, 
perhaps foolishly, but I think there must be some 
way to make money at a more rapid rate. I take it 
you are now returning to Chicago?” 

“Indeed no. I shall never go there until I am on 
my feet financially again. I am bound for the Black 
Hills. ” 

“To seek your fortune in the gold mines?” 

“The gold is there. Why not? Some people sue 
ceed. The few hundred I have shall go trying hard 
to produce more.” 

“Well,” said Harry, "I’ve managed to save up some 
eight hundred and fifty dollars since leaving Chicago. 
All I want is to increase it. Not because I am a gold 
worshiper, but because I would place my father and 
his family in an independent position. ” 

“A noble object, young man, Come with me, and 
together we will see what fortune has in store for us. 

I am a widower and have one daughter, who must 
now be eighteen years of age, living in Scotland She 


A COUPLE OF TENDERFEET 


255 


formerly lived with my mother, who died shortly be¬ 
fore my failure. My daughter wrote me of her grand¬ 
mother’s death and I answered the letter telling her 
to come to me. A few days after, I was not worth a 
dollar in the world. I then wrote informing her that 
I had changed my plans. That she must take the money 
I had formerly sent her, and go to my brother who 
also lives in Scotland, that I would come for her as 
soon as possible. You must now know that I am anx¬ 
ious to acquire an independence again. 

"In the ordinary avenues of life a man’s days are 
half spent ere he has acquired a competence. Some 
with grit and resolution seek shorter roads to wealth; 
some speculation, which requires a competence to fol¬ 
low; others the mines. You have eight hundred and 
fifty dollars. I have as much more. We will form a 
partnership, go to the Black Hills and strive to find 
a fortune. We may succeed by trying. We certainly 
will not otherwise.” 

Harry extended his hand. There was something in 
the straightforward, open countenance of his companion 
that won his confidence. 

“I am with you, Mr. Cullam.” 

Hugh Cullam grasped the extended hand of the 
young man. 

"Call me Hugh, Harry. If we are going into the 
Black Hills together, leave mister behind. Let it be 
Hugh and Harry. God made men, He didn’t make 
misters.” 

“As you will, Hugh. You are enough my senior to 
require me to show you that deference.” 

The twentieth of September the two men thus 
strangely thrown together arrived in Rapid City, 
twelve miles from the famous Black Hills. 


256 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


It was about six o’clock in the evening when they 
entered the city hotel. They registered and went into 
the dining-room for supper. 

Hardly had they disappeared when a man dressed 
in a corduroy suit stepped over and looked at the reg¬ 
ister. 

Presently he walked back to the other side of the 
rcom. "Bill, it’s a couple of Tenderfeet, I reckon. 
They're from Chicago.” 

"Do you reckon we kin work the racket, Steve?” 

“We can try. If we don’t catch them we’ll catch 
some one else. I’ll tackle 'em when they come out. 
You light out. Go and hunt up Pete and be nigh in 
case I want you.” 

Bill, the man whom the inspector of the register 
had addressed, who looked exactly like a typical 
western miner, left the room and a few moments after, 
Hugh Cullam and Harry entered it again. 

They sat in one corner of the room and were dis¬ 
coursing on what kind of a kit of tools they would 
get on the morrow, when the man of the corduroy 
suit, Steve Ball, approached them. 

"Say, you gents must excuse me, but is you wantin’ 
a guide for the Black Hills? That’s my business 
mostly. ” 

‘ You are well posted about the hills then?" 

“Posted! I should say I was. There ain’t nary a 
gulch in the hills that I donP know ” 

“Perhaps we may want a man to post us a bit, but 
I guess we can find our way. Now, if you could di¬ 
rect us on to somebody who had a good working claim, 
and who had got sick of the hills and wanted to sell 
out, we'd talk to you.” 

“Now you speak of it, pards,” said Steve, "I do 


A COUPLE OF TENDERFEET 


2 57 


know a couple of lazy devils that have got a claim, 
just a little way out in the hills, an’ if they worked it 
I reckon it would pay big. I knowed ’em to take out 
forty dollars in one day, but the cusses is drunk all 
the time. If some one don’t buy ’em out, they’ll die 
afore long, and some speculator will get hold of their 
claim. ” 

"You think then, their claim would pay to work?” 

"Yes, mister, and so would you if you saw it." 

"How much would buy it?" 

"Oh, you could buy it cheap. The devils is too 
lazy to work it. ” 

"How far out do you say it is?" 

"Oh, about fourteen miles from here. ’Bout two 
miles in the hills. But, has you fellows got kits?" 

"Not yet; we must get our outfit in the morning. If 
we don’t buy the claim you speak of, we intend to 
put in a couple of months prospecting. By that time 
it will be too cold to work in the hills." 

"I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you’ll get ready tol¬ 
erable early in the morning, I’ll pilot you out to that 
thar gulch and it shan’t cost you a cent, more than 
a half gallon of bug juice, that you’ll bring along to 
wet our whistles with. I have some business out in 
thar. I have got a claim or two myself further on." 

"Well, we shall be glad of your company. We shall 
get off by ten o’clock at most, and will look at the 
claim you speak of.” 

"All right, gents, I’ll be on hand. You’ll find all 
the traps you want to buy over to Miner & Cooley’s. 
You can find ponies for sale by the hundred, back at 
old Sam Liddle’scorral, half amileeast. I’ll be round 
in the mornin’, an’ if I kin do you any good, I’ll do 
it. Good-night to you." 

The Girl from Macoupin 17 


258 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“What do you think of that chap, Harry?” asked 
Hugh Cullam. 

“He’s a new type of man to me, I hardly know. 
But I think if we could find a claim that would 
turn out forty dollars a day we would be found staying 
with it for a while.” 

“I guess you’re right there, Harry. But from what 
I’ve seen here, half of these people look shiftless and 
lazy. However, I am like you. I don’t know much 
about the ways of the Black Hill miners, but a man 
that can stand the bulls and bears of Chicago, as long 
as I did, can stand the miners, I guess. Well, I’m 
in favor of going to bed early, as we must be early 
astir. ” 

Harry acquiesced in this remark and soon after the 
hotel clerk sent a porter with them to the floor above, 
and they were soon in the land of slumbers, dreaming, 
it is to be supposed, of untold wealth, to be by them 
unearthed, in the Black Hills. 

Meanwhile, Steve Ball, when he hastened from the 
hotel office, did not go far, merely to the barn where 
he found the man of the red shirt, and a long cadav¬ 
erous looking chap similarly dressed. 

“Bill,” said Steve, as soon as he reached his side, 
“you and Pete light out at once. I’ll be thar with 
the two chaps agin two o’clock to morrow. Don’t lose 
no time. They want a claim, an’ they want one bad. 
There’s a big chance to sell them ourn. Jest hustle 
out an’ git in your work. Jest saddle your ponies, 
pack that ere mule, come over and get your rum and 
light out. Play your parts and I’ll play mine. Lively 
now. ” 

“It’s a durned lonesome ride at night," said Long 
Pete. 


A COUPLE OF TENDERFEET 


259 


"It’s lonesome, Pete, but if she works, a third of 
the boodle’s yours, and we can’t stand it much longer. 
We’d soon have to rob the mine, and that would 
ruin our chances.” 

“Oh, we’re off. Pete Halpin never backs out.” 

A half hour later two horsemen might have been 
seen gliding over the prairie in the direction of the 
foothills. A pack mule kept pace with them, and a 
half gallon of rum was among the stores on his back, 
but from a flask in the pocket of one of the ponies’ 
riders did they stimulate their courage for the dark 
ride before them. 

"I ain’t sayin’ it ain’t a dark and lonesome ride, 
Pete, but one thing sure, if the tenderfeet want a 
claim, they must have it, and if so be they hanker 
after ours why we ain’t the men as will refuse a good 
stiff price, be we?” 

“You’re right, Bill, old boy." 

“Let’s take a couple of swallows of that ‘Oh, be 
joyful,’ and jog erlong for our desternation.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


WILDCAT GULCH 

Early the following morning Hugh Cullam and Harry 
were astir. They ate breakfast by lamplight and paid 
their bill. For eighty dollars they bought a couple of 
good stout ponies, and on them they loaded their out¬ 
fit of tools and provisions. They laid in a plentiful 
supply of cartridges for their revolvers, and added a 
shotgun to their outfit in order that they might be 
prepared for small game. 

It was half after nine when they struck out in the 
direction of the hills, piloted by Steve Ball. 

Steve, by the way, was the only mounted man of 
the three. 

Hugh and Harry were walking beside their ponies. 

The half gallon of "bug juice" Steve had stipulated 
for was tied to the pommel of his saddle. He insisted 
on walking fully a third of the time, and giving Hugh 
and Harry a chance to try the grit of his pony. Each 
time he dismounted he took a goodly swig from the 
demijohn to fortify himself for the walk before him. 

They reached the foothills before one o’clock. 

“Now from here on to Wildcat Gulch, where the 
claim I was tellin’ you of is, it’s two mile. Shall we 
go there?” suddenly broke in Steve. 

“Yes, we might as well go by there," replied Hugh, 
"and take a look at it, as you seem to think there’s 
gold there." 


260 


WILDCAT GULCH 


26l 


“Think it! Durn it, man, every man in the hills 
knows there’s gold in wildcat gulch. You see the 
Halpin claim is an old one. There’s been millions of 
dollars took out of it, I reckon.” 

“What, by these men, who you say are too lazy to 
work?” asked Harry. 

Steve burst into an uproarious laugh. “By them? 
Bless you no. Them devils wouldn’t never get rich, 
if the whole gulch was solid gold. They’re too skeered 
of hard work. The fellows as made the fortune worked 
the claim three years, and took out more gold than 
they knew what to do with. ” 

“Why did they give it up?” 

"I’m cornin’ to that. Suddenly the gold gin out. 
They worked about three weeks after that, and as the 
dirt didn’t pay they abandoned the mine. It lay idle 
until about six months ago. No one would have it. 
One day Bill Wattles and Pete Halpin was plunderin’ 
about there and they discovered somethin’ that caused 
them to file a claim on it—Partners, they’d struck a 
new lead, but they ain’t got brains enough to work it, 
and nobody else can work it without buyin’ them 
out.” 

Their advance was slower now, owing to the uneven 
surface, and as they advanced, each successive step 
brought them into a higher altitude. 

They passed an occasional prospector, and bore on 
until they reached a deep chasm that led into the 
hills, apparently dividing them. 

“This yere’s Wildcat Gulch,” said Steve, “and if 
the boys is home, you’ll soon get a chance to dicker 
with them. ” 

“You think, then, that possibly they may not be 
home?” 


262 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“There’s no telling the drunken brutes. Not as I 
don’t like rum, but with the wealth they have before 
’em if they’d work. Careful, now. Single file. Fol¬ 
low me." 

They passed down the side of the gulch, which was 
studded here and there with a growth of pines, in an 
oblique direction for about half a mile. Here they 
rounded a succession of high, rocky boulders, which 
were succeeded by an almost perpendicular descent of 
three hundred feet, to a babbling stream that ran spark¬ 
ling below. For another half mile they wound around 
among the boulders until they were within fifty feet of 
the bottom of the gulch. 

Their tired animals drank from the brook and they 
themselves slaked their thirst. 

They passed down the stream perhaps two hundred 
yards and forded it. 

“This little creek’s a torrent sometimes, in the 
spring and fall, partner.” 

"Hark!” exclaimed Harry, “I hear something.” 

"That’s the voice of Pete, as I told you about, I 
think.” 

There were, on the side of the creek they were now 
on a succession of rocky ledges, one after the other. 
Up, up, even higher than the perpendicular one on 
the other side. 

They followed what appeared to be a natural path, 
which led them up to what seemed the third ledge from 
the bottom. This had a width, where they reached it 
of fully twenty feet, then succeeded another sheer as¬ 
cent of perhaps thirty feet, to a ledge above. 

"We’ve reached Halpin Mine,” said Steve. 

"Where! Where!” exclaimed both Hugh and Harry. 

“Why, there ahead. Don’t you see that dark look¬ 
ing surface there? There’s where the mine is.” 



“We’ve reached Halpin Mine,” said Steve. 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 263. 




































WILDCAT GULCH 


265 


They soon neared the place indicated. There was 
an entrance of some ten feet wide into the side of the 
rocky surface, and far down below them, even to the 
creek below, lay rock and soil that had come from 
within it. 

A pearly stream came leaping down from springs 
above. Just here it glided over the thirty feet of 
rocky space and fell to the stream below. 

“This is a picturesque spot, Hugh." 

"A selection for an artist.” 

“Now, you fellows best let me do the talkin’. You 
see how handy these fellows is got things. See, there’s 
the sluice box, they can washout right here, and dump 
their dirt over the ledge. There’s three or four wheel 
barrows of yellow dirt now. They’re workin’. ” 

“Oh it’s beef steak when you are hungry, 

Whiskey when you are dry, 

Money when you’re hard up, 

And heaven when you die.” 

“Heave ahead, Pete, or you’ll never get there.” 

"Bad luck to you, keep off of my heels.” 

Here the two red-shirted miners hove into sight, 
each wheeling a barrow full of yellow dirt and rotten 
stone. 

They halted and set down their barrows. 

“Hello, Pete Halpin. Don’t you know me?" 

“Well, I allow I didn’t, Ball. But I do now. What 
you doin’ here?" 

“Oh, Pm just showin’ these gents the hills. They’re 
lookin’ for a site to make a claim." 

“They be, hey? Well, if they’ve got spondulix 
enough, they can buy Bill and I out. Durned if we 
ain’t tired of workin’. We ain’t got no families, 
what’s the use. Have you got anything to drink? 


266 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Yes/* said Steve, “here it is.” 

The two men wheeled their barrows up near the 
sluice and dumped them, then came forward for their 
drinks. 

Steve picked up a handful of the yellow dirt they 
had dumped from the barrows. 

At once he seemed to be greatly excited. 

“What is it?” said Hugh. 

“Look here. There’s the demijohn. You fellows 
drink,” and as they were drinking, Steve continued: 
“Gold, gold, to the naked eye, and in that rotten 
quartz. ” 

Hugh glanced at the sparkling particles and par¬ 
took of Steve’s excitement. 

“Let’s go in where you’re at work,” said Steve 

“All right,” replied Pete. 

Thev passed in at the entrance, following the wheel¬ 
barrows fifty feet back a little to the left. Two picks 
were sticking in earth, the color of that that had re¬ 
cently been wheeled out. Two or three loads lay ready 
for them, and under feet and to the left was the quartz 
rock. 

Daylight came in. Not plentifully but enough to 
aid a good deal at this end from above. 

“There’s where the old shaft was, before the first 
company abandoned the mine,” said Pete. 

The two men loaded their barrows again and Steve 
scraped off a handful of the yellow dirt from the solid 
surface and brought it out with him. 

“See," he said. “In it are the same particles.” 

"Yes,” said Harry, “and in this from the barrows.” 

“Let’s have a drink,” Steve said. 

Bill and Pete were more than willing, and Harry 
and Hugh went through the motions. 


WILDCAT GULv^xi 


267 


"How much do you want for this claim?” 

"Well, stranger, Bill and I allowed we’d take five 
thousand dollars for the hole, and jump right out.” 

"Out of the question,” exclaimed Hugh. "We’ll 
have to locate a claim ourselves. But how much gold 
do you expect to pan out of those four loads you have 
dumped there?” 

"Well, I ’low there ain’t no less than twenty dol¬ 
lars. ” 

"Twenty dollars? And you two got it all out this 
morning? I don’t believe there’s that much, but if 
there is and you can prove it, we’ll give you one thou¬ 
sand dollars for the claim.” 

"It’s easy to prove what’s in it,” said Steve. "Four 
more bags will carry the whole business. You can bag 
it up, take it to a smelter and have it assayed.” 

"A thousand dollars ain’t no price, stranger,” said 
Bill. "We come by this mine honest, and you’ll get 
a quit claim if we sell to you.” 

"Five thousand dollars ain’t no price,” exclaimed 
Pete. “I’ve knowed mines that couldn’t show up with 
this, sold for two hundred thousand dollars.” 

"We ain’t looking for that kind,” said Hugh. 

"You best rest your ponies a bit," remarked Steve, 
"they want to roll.” 

While Hugh and Harry were relieving them of their 
loads, Steve was talking to his two confederates. "It 
may be the last chance this fall," he said. “Try and 
make her five hundred dollars each, and hold the salt. 
We can easily load another mine.” 

"I’ll tell you what," observed Pete, as Harry and 
Hugh stepped to where the miners were standing ; 
"you fellows want a mine. Bill and I has got more 
than we looks like, and we want to go east. You fel- 


268 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


lows has got two ponies here, Bill and 1 has got two 
and a pack mule. You can leave your stuff here. 
We’ve got some ore bags, and we’ll pack that ore to 
a smelter at Rapid City. If the four loads don’t assay 
more than twenty dollars you can have the mine for 
one thousand dollars. If they assay over thirty dol¬ 
lars you’re to pay fifteen hundred for it, and we’re to 
retain the ore. ” 

“What if it don’t assay twenty?” asked Harry. 

"Young fellow, I know pay dirt when I see it," said 
Pete. “If that there dirt don’t assay twenty dollars, 
we’ll give you the mine fer nothin’. Hey, Bill?" 

“Blamed if we don’t,” said Bill. 

“Well, it’s a bargain." 

Bill caught the ponies and the mule The ore was 
placed in the bags and the cavalcade was soon bound 
for Rapid City. 

It was night when they arrived there, so the five 
men took turns watching the bags of ore until day¬ 
light, and at eight o’clock they carried them to the 
smelter. 

The four loads assayed thirty-seven and a half dol¬ 
lars. 

“Are you satisfied?” asked Pete. 

“Yes. One thousand five hundred you get for the 
mine." 

In half an hour from that time Hugh and Harry 
had a bill of sale of Halpin claim in Wildcat Gulch, 
and Steve, Bill and Pete, had five hundred in green¬ 
backs each, in their pockets, and were seated in Tom 
Rouse’s saloon playing poker for ten dollars a corner. 

Before nightfall our two miners were back at their 
claim again, and the next day, with overalls on, they 
worked hard with pick and shovel, bringing out the 
yellow soil. 


WILDCAT GULCH 


269 


Every wheelbarrow load Hugh would examine 
closely, when they brought it out to the dump. He 
said nothing until eight loads had been wheeled out, 
when he shook his head and remarked to Harry: “My 
boy, there’s something wrong. If there’s gold here it 
don’t show." 

“I have been unable to detect anything of the ap¬ 
pearance,” said Harry. 

‘‘In order to be certain what we are doing, we will 
take a couple of bags of this dirt to the smelter to¬ 
morrow. ” 

They did so and had it assayed. 

“That dirt might be good for filling in holes,” said' 
the assayist, “but as pay dirt it don’t figure. There’s 
no gold in it, to speak of. It ain’t worth ten cents a 
ton." 

“You remember the five bags of dirt that assayed 
thirty-seven and a half dollars only two days ago?" 

“Yes,that was unusually rich dirt." 

“This came from the same mine, and from exactly 
the same spot, as near as could be." 

“Did you buy that mine?" 

“Yes, and on the strength of your assay." 

“Oh, the assay of the dirt brought in the bags was 
all right, the miners wouldn’t take the thirty-seven 
and a half dollars for it, I understand it all now. I’m 
sorry for } 7 ou, but you bought a salted mine. I wouldn’t 
give ten dollars for it. Where is it located?" 

“Wildcat Gulch." 

“Same old thing. You’re about the fifth party I have 
known to drop their money in that gulch. You see, 
it’s so close to Rapid City it’s always in demand by 
salters who have an eye for tenderfeet. Here. Take 
your dirt along. We don’t want it." 


270 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Our two miners had started to leave. They turned 
back, carried the big trays of dirt out and emptied 
them in the street. 

“This,” said Harry, “is the hardest blow I have 
ever known.” 

“It looks hard,” said Hugh, “but remember there 
have been millions of dollars taken out of that hole. 
We must not abandon it. Neither will it do any good 
to cry over spilt milk. We could get no satisfaction. 
We will return and thoroughly explore Halpin mine." 

“And let the scoundrels go who robbed us?” 

“Wait, wait. Something tells me we may yet laugh 
at them.” 

Back to Wildcat Gulch rode our two luckless miners, 
and day after day they dug and explored until the 
middle of October, and not a dollar’s worth of gold 
had they discovered. To be sure there was a little in 
the first wheelbarrow full they had brought out, where 
the pay dirt from some other mine had been dumped. 
Our two miners had become thoroughly disheartened. 

"There is no other way, Harry. We must give this 
claim up, and go further into the hills, and we have 
little left to work on." 

“One thing I’m in favor of,” said Harry, “and that 
is, investing ten, yes, twenty dollars if need be, in 
dynamite and blowing this mine to kingdom come 
Give salters no opportunity to wreck another tender¬ 
foot in Wildcat Gulch.” 

“I agree with you, Harry. We owe it to the poor 
unfortunates who may come after us. All the ras¬ 
cality is not on the Chicago Board of Trade. To¬ 
morrow morning we will go for supplies and dynamite, 
and ere the next day’s sun has set, a roar of thunder 
shall emanate from Wildcat Gulch that will be heard 
in Rapid City.” 


WILDCAT GULCH 


271 


“May it strike terror to the hearts of the three mis 
creants that sold us a salted claim, is my ardent wish," 
said Harry. 

“And mine, my boy, and mine." 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE SALTED CLAIM 

On the following morning bright and early, our 
friends were en route for Rapid City, where they laid 
in a supply of provisions, after which they procured 
two additional drills and a fifty pound can of dyna¬ 
mite, aside from a large number of heavy cartridges 
and several coils of fuse. 

They left town as soon as possible. They were not 
anxious to meet either of the parties who sold them 
the mine. 

Very cautiously did they proceed on their way home. 
One of them carefully guiding the steps of the pony 
that bore on his back enough explosive material to 
obliterate the party, ponies and all, should a misstep 
on his part cause him to stumble and fall. 

They arrived at the mine again while yet the sun 
was two hours high. 

“Now, we have time to formulate our plans, Harr}'. 
My idea is to fire the fifty pound can up in the south 
end of the mine. There is where the gold bearing 
quartz gave out. From above we will drill several 
holes some ten feet back which we will load with the 
cartridges. When we have done that and fired them, 
the appearance of Halpin claim will be such that the 
three miscreants would not recognize it.” 

“We might drill two or three holes into the side at 
the south end, and charge them also,” said Harry. 


THE SALTED MINE 


273 


"Yes, we’ll spend time enough to do a good job. 
We might as well spend a few days here as elsewhere. 
No telling what we may unearth.” 

They deposited their dynamite in safety in the mine, 
and the next morning clambered up to the ledge, where 
with picks and shovels they worked down some three 
feet into the soil and rock, some ten feet back as they 
judged, from where the aperture of the mine extended. 
Then for five days they drilled from early dawn until 
dark, down through the porous rock, until they struck 
that that seemed almost impenetrable. Still they 
drilled, until they had within the short space of twelve 
feet, no less than six holes, to a depth of fully ten 
feet below the rocky surface. 

They carefully covered up the orifices, and spent 
three days more drilling from within the mine, at the 
south end, and laterally, in a direction to meet the 
orifices from above Four of these holes were drilled. 
Then long, heavy cartridges, to which a fuse had been 
attached, were carefully shoved within as far as they 
would reach. 

Next cartridges were lowered into the six holes 
drilled from above. Then the fifty pound can of dyna¬ 
mite was set close up against the south end, and a 
fuse attached. 

The fuse had been cut to allow five minutes from the 
time they were ignited, until an explosion was caused. 
This time would be necessary to enable the miners to 
get beyond the reach of danger. 

They removed all their tools and provisions to a 
safe distance, and when everything was in readiness } 
it was six o’clock at night, and they deferred firing 
their mine until the following day. 

Early in the morning they ate their breakfast. 

The Girl from Macoupin 18 


274 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Let’s tear down this shanty, and move these boards 
to where we have the tools. We may need them again. 
If we leave the shanty here we’ll see nothing of it 
after the explosion.” 

“I fear, Hugh, we’ll never have cause to erect it 
again." 

“A short time will tell." 

The shanty was soon torn down and they packed the 
material aside to where their other stores were piled, 
behind an immense boulder some hundred yards south. 

“Now all is ready. Instead of a match we will each 
take a torch. Set our watches together to the second. 
Here. You set by mine, Harry. Now, I’ll go in the 
mine and light the fuse there. You climb the cliff and 
light those above. At 2:20 light the six in quick suc¬ 
cession and make for that boulder. I will be there as 
soon as you will.” 

Harry, torch in hand, climbed the face of the cliff 
as Hugh entered the mine. 

Five minutes passed by, and then two men were 
running like wild in the direction of the boulder, south. 

There they met. 

“The next boulder, Harry. Let’s make that." 

It was perhaps a hundred yards yet further south. 
Like the wind they ran. They made it. 

“Now we are safe. I don’t look for the rock to be 
thrown far. The mass is too great. The explosion 
will simply tear off—" 

The remark was not finished. There was a deafening 
roar and the two men fell to the ground, as thousands 
of tons of rock and soil was driven from its secure 
foundation over the ledge, up in the clear blue sky 
and fell with a mighty crash, blocking the channel of 
the stream, closing up the gulch almost from side to 
side. 


THE SALTED MINE 


275 


The stones and dirt yet fell. The echoes of the ex¬ 
plosion yet reverbrated when our two heroes arose to 
their feet. 

“In heaven’s name, look, Hugh Cullam. Look! 
She‘s blown into smithereens.” 

“Yes, and there’s a dam across the gulch. In ten 
days time we can catch fish there for breakfast.” 

For fully five minutes did they stand gazing at the 
spot where the great destruction had been wrought. 
Then proceeded to the locality. 

There was no longer any aperture beneath the sur¬ 
face were the mine had been. 

The entire southern half of roof and side, as well as 
all that mighty mass embraced in the southern end 
of the cliff, between where the bombs had been placed, 
and the descent to the ledge below, had been riven 
off and cast into the gulch, while rents and seams 
were visible in all directions. The north wall of the 
mine had fallen in. There was little to indicate that 
they stood on the site of Halpin Claim. 

“Truly,” exclaimed Hugh, “the three miscreants 
would fail to recognize the mine they sold us. Now 
let us take a stroll through the wreck and see what 
the outlook is? Who would have thought the quan¬ 
tity of dynamite we used would have proved so de¬ 
structive?” 

“There’s where the can must have stood. That 
rocky formation seems to be of a different character, 
there beyond.” 

“Yes. Look here. All along here it appears seamy, 
and almost rotten. ” 

“Here. What is this deposit in this cranny, here?” 
and Harry stooped and scooped up a half handful of 
dullish yellow stone. “Why, how heavy, and it glit¬ 
ters in places almost like gold,” 


276 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Here to the creek, Harry. Quick! Quick! Wait 
until I get a handful. There, hold it so in the stream. 
Now, God be praised, my boy, we have here solid 
gold. In these two handfuls of nuggets we have the 
price we paid for Halpin claim, and millions more we 
have the prospect of.” 

“Three cheers tor the salted claim, say I!” 

“And I. Hurrah for Steve and Bill and Pete! We 
have the laugh on them. Why, man, there’s millions 
here. ” 

“My dear old father. I’ll lift your mortgage now." 

“Yes, Harry, and I soon will have Maggie with me. ” 

“Well, let’s knock the shanty together again. We’ll 
need it now.” 

“What will we do first?” 

“Why, put the shanty together.” 

“But after that?” 

“Oh, collect what we can of the nuggets, from the 
crannies and seams, and take them to Rapid City. 
Our cash supply is getting low.” 

“I guess our discovery will cause the miners around 
these hills to have a little more respect for tenderfeet. 
But suppose we had not undertaken to blow the mine 
into smithereens?” 

"In that event, my boy, I fear you would have gone 
back to work on the Northwestern; and I, well, God 
knows when I would have seen my daughter. By the 
way, let me show you her photograph. Now, bless her 
heart, I feel as happy as a lord.” 

"And I. For I can now smooth the path of the dear 
ones at home. ” 

While they were talking they had walked back to 
the boulder, where their plunder was piled. Hugh 
opened his valise and soon handed Harry a photo¬ 
graph. 


THE SALTED MINE 


277 


“Oh, she’s a beauty. But what’s this, Hugh? Her 
name under the photograph, Maggie McCullam." 

“Oh, yes. I have not told you that either. When 
I went into business in Chicago, I found it almost 
impossible to retain my own name. Particularly on 
the Board of Trade. There was another Hugh Mc¬ 
Cullam there, and so frequently were there mistakes 
made, some of which were quite serious that I dropped 
the Me, and had my business cards printed, Hugh 
Cullam. But my proper name is Hugh McCullam. 
The name is an old and honored one in Scotland, and 
I shall now resume it.” 

“What, in your opinion, had we better do with our 
mine?” 

“I can’t tell, Harry, there will be great excitement 
over our discovery, and doubtless we will soon have 
many chances to sell to men of capital. We must 
think the matter over, and in the meantime, we will 
probably take out enough gold to make us independ¬ 
ent.” 

“You think so, Hugh?” 

“No doubt of it, boy. We are rich men right now. 
Well, let us put up the shanty.” 

That was not a very extensive undertaking, and 
they had the material packed back where they desired 
it, and the building reconstructed by dark. 

Harry made coffee, fried some bacon and flap jacks, 
and the two men ate as though the meal tasted good. 

“So you think, Hugh, we’ll be catching fish in the 
gulch soon?” 

“To be sure. Just look. There was not eight inches 
of water there, before we fired our mine. Now it is 
at least five feet deep, and it’ll probably not overflow 
the dam before morning.” 


278 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"We should search down th bed of the creek, before 
the water overleaps the dam. We might find nuggets 
there. ” 

"True, but it’s too dark, now. If necessary we can 
let the water off at some future time, and close the 
dam again. I don’t think we’ll care to. We won’t 
have much searching for our gold at present." 

“The excitement of the day has tired me out, Hugh. 
I shall soon be in the land of nod." 

So, in fact, were both of them, but early in the 
morning they were astir, and at ten o’clock they had 
gathered nuggets and pocket gold enough to be suffi¬ 
cient for one of the ponies to carry. So this gold was 
placed in a stout bag, which was fastened on the back 
of one of the ponies, and Hugh McCullam mounted 
the other and started for Rapid City. 

It was deemed unwise for both to leave the mine. 
Harry was to remain and prospect, and act as guard. 

It was five o’clock when Hugh returned, and Harry 
had a greater supply ready to be transported to Rapid 
City than Hugh had carried in the morning. 

“What success, Hugh?" he called out as his friend 
approached. 

‘ Guess, Harry, how much gold I carried with me 
when I left camp.” 

"It’s too hard for me, Hugh. I should say five hun¬ 
dred dollars.” 

"Here’s the bank book. McCullam and Linwood, 
deposit, October 19, 1889, $12,500.” 

"What! twelve thousand five hundred dollars? It 
seems impossible. What think the people in Rapid 
City?” 

"Oh, I was careful to say nothing. In fact I talked 
with none, save at the bank and assay office. They 


THE SALTED MINE 


279 


imagine there the gold was bought up by us, in va¬ 
rious sections, and that it represented the work of 
many fortunate prospectors. They will find out soon 
enough. Meanwhile we will have a hundred thousand 
or two out. We will secure the gold that is most 
accessible. But if you have noticed nearly all this 
rock here bears gold. There’s work here for a 
smelter." 

“Did you bring anything back good to eat?” 

"Yes, I remembered you. There’s some steak in 
the basket.” 

“Shall you go back to morrow?” 

“You’d better go to morrow. Take the book along, 
and leave early. I’ll work at home.” 

So it was. Harry went in, and ten thousand dollars 
more was added to the cash account. 

The next day Hugh made the trip—total five thou¬ 
sand. 

By this time it had got whispered about Rapid City 
that the two tenderfeet who had got stuck on the 
salted claim in Wildcat Gulch, had struck a million 
somewhere in the mines. 

It is only necessary to set a story of that kind afloat, 
whether it is true or false for it to travel fast, and as 
it travels, it enlarges in magnitude. And thus it was 
that the story of the find of Harry and Hugh, when 
it had reached Chicago, St. Paul, Denver and other 
cities, had assumed gigantic proportions. Untold 
millions had been unearthed by tenderfeet. Mean¬ 
while our miners kept packing into town, day after 
day, the find of the day before. They now shipped by 
express direct to the Philadelphia mint. 

One day when Harry was in Rapid City he met 
Steve and Pete Halpin. 


28 o 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“How are you, pard,” said Steve. “I hear you’ve 
struck her mighty rich back there in the gulch. How 
nigh was it to Halpin claim?” 

"Why, right there,” said Harry. "We used a little 
dynamite and cleaned out the mine. We found the 
lost lead. It was just as you told us. 

"Yes,” said Steve, ‘‘I knowed it. We’ve got another 
one now, pardner. Rich as Caesar. You can buy her.” 

"We have all we can tend to now,” said Harry. 
"And perhaps we might not meet with such luck the 
second time. We might run onto a salted mine." 

"You might fer true, stranger. If you ain’t careful 
who you deal with.” 

"Oh, I can always tell a square man when I see one. 
You remember how readily we took your word about 
Halpin claim.” 

"And didn’t you find it jest as I told you? 

"Sure, just as you told us. But it took about sev¬ 
enty pounds of dynamite to get at the gold. Well, 
good-day.” 

"Pete,” said Steve, as Harry walked off, "I’m hanged 
if the tenderfeet know we sold them a salted claim. 

By the middle of November our miners had pretty 
well cleaned up the cranies and crevices and obtained 
what gold could be secured without the aid of a crusher 
and smelter. 

On the 17th of November there are a number of 
mining experts out to see the claim. They brought 
with them assayers to examine the gold bearing rock, 
and before they had left, the two miners sold them a 
half interest in Halpin mine for one million two 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and steps were 
immediately taken by the new company to putting ore 
crushers, smelters and the latest improved machinery. 



“How are you, pard?” said Steve. 


Girl from Macoupin, p. 280. 



































































































THE SALTED MINE 


283 


It was the 27th of November that the trade was 
consummated and the arrangements of the new com¬ 
pany completed. 

Harry and Hugh were now each well-to-do men and 
when they decided to take a rest until spring they felt 
that they had well earned it. 

“First you must go with me, Hugh, and see the 
father and mother I have been working so hard to re¬ 
lieve. ” 

“Yes, boy, and then I must take a trip to Scotland, 
for Maggie.” 

“How fortunate we met, Hugh.” 

“Yes, lad, yes. And how fortunate we were tender- 
feet and bit at a salted mine.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE MORTGAGE FORECLOSED 

It will be remembered that the mortgage drawn by 
our friends Eben Linwood and wife on their little 
farm in Macoupin, was to fall due November 12th, 
1889. 

Now, when that time arrived there was great un¬ 
happiness on the part of Eben and his family, that 
they were unable to meet it. 

The past two years had not been successful ones to 
the good farmer. 

Few farmers in the section had raised really good 
crops, and Eben had had decidedly bad luck all 
around. He had lost two horses within two years. 
His old enemy, the cholera, had killed off his hogs. 
Anyway, with his children gone, Eben was not Eben. 
Everything seemed to go wrong. Every dollar of the 
money he had repaid to Aunt Jane and nearly all Eben 
could scrape himself, had gone to detectives who 
made Eben and Jane believe they would find their 
boy. 

Eben had been in Palmyra on the evening of the 
10th and paid the interest. 

“Now, Joel,” he had said, after the interest was 
paid, “you know the trouble I’ve been through the 
past two years. I’d like to have that mortgage ex¬ 
tended. You couldn t have your money better invested.” 

“You will have my money for the time agreed on, 
284 


THE MORTGAGE FORECLOSED 


285 


Linwood, on the 12th day of November. And on that 
day I want it back. I am all business. If a man deals 
with me, he must do just as he agrees to. If he don’t 
I’ll try and make him. You know me. When I lend 
money, the time is stipulated in the mortgage. I never 
let one run over more than three days without fore¬ 
closing. ” 

"But, I can’t pay it, Joel. Losin’ my boy, an’ my 
girl going away- Hard times, poor health, and bad 
crops has left me worse off than ever before. ” 

"Yes. I expect so. Every body is growling about 
hard times. I need money. Need it bad. I must 
have it. I’ve got some important trades on hand. So, 
you must hustle up and pay, or you’ll be sold out. 
Why, you knew that when you borrowed the money 
of me, didn’t you? Everybody in the county knows 
Joel Bland.” 

"I didn’t expect, when I borrowed that money, Joel, 
that in two years I would be the unhappy man I am, 
and I thought you’d give an old neighbor more time.” 

"More time? What good will it do you? You’ll be 
worse off next year than you are this. Not a day. I 
want my money when its due. Perhaps you can borry 
it of someone else. ” , 

"I don’t know, Joel. Very few people this year 
have money to loan. I will try Squire Ross.” 

"I suppose your daughter is gettin’ pay enough in 
Chicago too help you out. Then there’s tother girl.” 

"They don’t pay much wages to girls in those de¬ 
partment stores, Joel. I expect they’ve had a hard time 
to make both ends meet. Only for a hope that Pearl 
might learn something about her brother, I should 
have had her home long ago. Then, I spose there 
ain’t no use of my expectin’ any more time of you?” 


286 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"No longer than the law gives you, Eben. I always 
go exactly according to law.” 

"Well, good evening, Joel. You ought to thank 
God, that you ain’t in my place, with women folks on 
your hands, and somebody else with the power to turn 
you out of doors.” 

"How do you know I don’t? Jest as I expected," 
added Joel, as the door closed on Eben, "another farm 
coming my way. I’ll probably have to buy it in What 
fools people are, to borrow money, without knowing 
how they’re going to pay it. One thing certain. They 
mustn’t do it with me. I remember the law sold me 
out once, when I was a young man. Since then it’s 
sold out many a one, at my demands. Law. Law. All 
I want is law. Now, I suppose Mark’ll kick mightily 
’bout my foreclosin’on Lin wood. Ah, here he comes.” 

Sure enough Mark entered from the street door. 

"Did you see Eben Linwood, Mark?” 

"Yes, uncle, I saw him. The old man looked very 
troubled. I asked him what was the matter. He said 
he would be unable to meet that mortgage, and that 
you refused to extend it. To be sure, uncle, the mort* 
gage is good. He has paid the interest. You will 
not crowd Eben Linwood? Think of the old man’s 
misfortunes.” 

"Trash, boy, trash I tell you a man with a soft 
heart will never make a lawyer. You must get over 
that. I loaned money for two years. See? Who I 
loaned it to, cuts no figure. When the time expires 
I want my money or I take sech steps as the law pre¬ 
scribes to obtain it. The ioth of January you get your 
diploma. Don’t start in with a weak heart. Law is 
law. Stick right to it every time, as I have warned 
you before, look out for women and preachers.” 


THE MORTGAGE FORECLOSED 287 

“Uncie Joel, will you not give Eben Linwood 
further time?” 

“Not a day, boy, not a day. Here I’ve been for years 
trying to drill you in the channels to make my money 
and you ask such a question. I’m surprised at you. 
You make me think the money spent on your law 
schoolin’ and your books is thrown away.” 

“Never fear that, uncle. But the law will never harden 
my heart." 

The next evening when Eben, his wife and Jane, 
were sitting in the parlor after supper, there came a 
knock at the door. 

“It’s Mark, I reckon,” said Eben. “Jane, will you 
open the door?” 

Jane complied and Mark walked in. 

“Set up by the fire, Mark. It’s gettin’ right cool 
outside. The fire feels good.” 

“It does, for a fact, Mr. Linwood.” 

“Mark,” said Aunt Jane, “Joel Bland is goin’ to do 
jest as I always told Eben he would, if he got a hold 
on him. He’s goin’ to foreclose an’ sell him out." 

“Yes, Miss Walker, I have tried to persuade him to 
extend the mortgage. I can do nothing with him. He 
says he never fails to foreclose when a mortgage is 
due. ” 

“Oh I know, Mark,” said Eben, "you as well try to 
persuade Satan himself. I’m ’bleeged to you though. 
Indeed I am.” 

“If your troubles had only come on a year later, I 
might have been able to help you.” 

“All has gone agin me since Harry left. I fear the 
old home will have to go. And Pearl, when she comes, 
will find the place in other hands." 

“If Judge Strong had have lived,” said Mark, “I’m 
quite certain I could have got the money of him.” 


288 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"I’ve tried every course I can think of, Mark. But 
it’s all been useless.” 

“What in heaven’s name makes Joel Bland so crazy 
to turn people out of house and home, when he knows 
his money’s safe?" said Jane. 

“It’s his nature, Jane. He wants the title to Lin- 
wood. Then we can remain as tenants.” 

“That’s about it, Mr. Linwood. ” 

“Well, here’s one,” said Aunt Jane, “that will leave 
Linwood the day the old place changes hands.” 

“Have you told your uncle yet,” said Eben, “that 
you and Pearl are engaged to be married?” 

“No, Mr. Linwood, I have not. There is no use of 
having a rupture with him until after I have grad¬ 
uated, if it can be helped.” 

“You think then, he will oppose your marriage.” 

"I have reason to believe so. But that makes no 
difference to me. Not though the whole world ob¬ 
jected, as long as Pearl and I love each other.” 

“Boy, I’ve been thinking that you’ll be giving up 
a mighty sight for Pearl. Your uncle’ll disinherit 
you. ” 

“Which do you suppose 1 prize the most, Mr. Lin¬ 
wood? My uncle’s wealth or Pearl’s love. If Uncle 
Joel was worth a million I’d gladly turn from it all 
before I’d yield up Pearl. It is thoughts of her that 
have borne me on to success. I shall not want my 
uncle’s wealth. I have business prospects ahead. 
Once we get Pearl home, she shall never return, and 
though you lose Linwood, yet shall you have it back 
again.” 

Then you don’t think, Mark, there’s any chance o 
Joel’s lettin’ the matter drag on a while without fore¬ 
closin’?” 


THE MORTGAGE FORECLOSED 


289 


I fear not, Mr. Linwood. It would be against his 
nature. Of course, some time must elapse before the 
sale, and if anything occurs within that time to enable 
you to pay the mortgage, you may yet save the home. ” 

“I don’t know how there can, boy.” 

"All we can do, Eben, is to trust in the Lord. I 
don’t believe Linwood will ever pass from your hands." 

The 12th of the month had passed and Joel had in¬ 
stituted proceedings to foreclose. A11 execution was 
issued and the farm was advertised for sale, at 12 m. 
on the premises at Linwood, on Dec. 4th, 1889. 

It was an unhappy family that gathered around the 
hearth stone at Linwood on the evenings of the days 
that intervened between the 12th of November and 
the day of the sale. 

All realized, that in all human probability Linwood 
would soon pass into the hands of others. 

Aunt Jane was the only one that expressed a belief 
that Eben would be able to hold it, and it would have 
been hard for her to have given a reason for the belief 
she expressed. 

"I am right glad, Jane, it’ll all be over before Pearl 
comes. As long as it must come. To have both her 
and Maggie here these last days would be almost 
more than I could bear. If Harry had have lived this 
would never have happened." 

"Harry is alive," said Aunt Jane. “And some day 
he’ll come home, to be the prop of our declining 
years." 

"God grant you may be right." 

"I am right. I know it. If Mark, now, had any in¬ 
fluence with his uncle, but not he. The only wonder 
is that Joel spent money for his law books and learn¬ 
ing. And now if he had any idee that Mark was en¬ 
gaged to be married to Pearl—" 


2go 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“What do you reckon he’d do, Jane?” 

“He’d disown the boy. He’d disinherit him on the 
spot.” 

“As though Pearl wa’n’t fit to be the wife of any 
young man in Illinois.” 

"’Tain’t that, Eben. He wouldn’t have Mark marry 
any girl. It would increase his expenses." 

“If the girl was rich, now,” said Sarah. 

“That might lessen Joel’s objections. But Mark’s 
a noble minded youth, and it won’t be long till he’ll 
have a name and money." 

Now Mark was in a very distressed frame of mind, 
that he was not in a position to save the home of the 
parents of the girl he loved, but he knew the useless¬ 
ness of appealing to his uncle. He hoped, day by day 
that something would turn up, and had made up his 
mind that if nothing else did, on the morning of the 
last dav, he would inform his uncle of his engagement 
to Pearl, and implore him to save him the humilia¬ 
tion of seeing his uncle sell the homestead of the father 
of his betrothed, when he could lose nothing by grant¬ 
ing further time. 

He could imagine what his uncle’s position would 
be: “Engaged, and to Linwood’s daughter? Trash! 
What did I tell you? To look out for women and 
preachers. This is the way you heeded me. I might 
have known it. I tried to make a man of you. You 
have deceived me. You must either give up Lin¬ 
wood’s daughter or you have nothing further to ex¬ 
pect from me. I shall disown and disinherit you. 
Mind that—take your choice." 

Mark knew full well what that choice would be. 
He appreciated fully all that his uncle had done for 
him, but give up Pearl? Never! 


THE MORTGAGE FORECLOSED 291 

Anything else, uncle, almost. But were 1 untrue 
to Pearl, I should neither be deserving of success in 

my chosen vocation, or happiness. Nothing but death 
can sever us. ” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


A WELL LAID PLOT 

At seven o’clock on the night of December 3d, two 
men entered Kinsley’s restaurant on Adams Street and 
ordered a bottle of wine and supper. 

They were seated in a private compartment and 
after they had been served they dismissed the waiter, 
and the following conversation ensued: 

“There is one thing certain, Hal, we have got to 
take active steps in this case, or give up the game. 
No milk and water course will do. We can’t get to 
see them in the attic. The angels won’t go out with 
us. They utterly refuse to meet us anywhere. Now, 
we must use a little strategy, or give them up.” 

“We have been through too much to think of giving 
up the game. Gods! Remember what we owe them 
for that night on the corner of Van Buren and Clark. 
If we could get them out once or twice and get them 
started, we’d have lots of fun with them. I had an 
idea you’d discharge them long ago, unless they came 
to time." 

"To tell the truth, I was a little afraid to, for fear 
Pearl would talk the matter over with the Chief of 
Police. You see she’s no ordinary girl. And, then, 
those girls in that event, would either go home to Ma¬ 
coupin, or find work elsewhere. We would lose them 
entirely. ” 

“They are devilish fine girls. If we could just corn- 
292 


A WELL LAID PLOT 


293 


promise them someway, so that it was in our power 
to disgrace them, I imagine we could control 
them. Since they’ve been located in the attic, chances 
are slimmer than they were before. They seldom go 
out evenings.” 

‘‘No, and everytime they do, that young artist, the 
widow’s son, accompanies them. And he always goes 
home with May, when she’s there evenings.” 

‘‘What is your plan?” 

‘‘My plan is to lose no further time. The girls are 
all right. I am deeply in love with Pearl and you, I 
guess, are not less smitten with Maggie. Now, for¬ 
tunately, we are both unmarried. So are the girls. 
I have kept them employed. Of course they have 
earned their wages. Now, if we go so far as to be in 
danger of exposure, and we can’t pacify them, or 
work out any other way, why, we’ll marry the girls. 
What say you?” 

"Marry shopgirls? By Jove!” 

“Oh, Hal, these are no ordinary shopgirls.” 

‘‘I should hope not, if you talk about marrying 
them. ” 

“I mean, Hal, in case we couldn’t manage them any 
other way. In case they were to call for officers and 
get us in a scrape. ” 

‘‘Well, we could promise.” 

“Yes. Promise. And if we had to fulfill the prom¬ 
ise, I wouldn’t feel bad.” 

“But Jake, what do you propose?” 

“You know Pearl would go anywhere at any time if 
she thought she would receive information of the 
brother who has so long been missing, and who is 
probably dead. ” 

“Yes." 


294 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Well. Here is my plan: Thisletter, which I wrote 
this afternoon, shall serve our purpose. Listen.” 

“Miss Pearl Linwood:— If you would see your 
brother, take the carriage at the door, and meet the 
writer of this letter at the North Western depot at 9: 15. 
You have not much time to lose. Your brother is an 
inmate of an asylum for the insane near Milwaukee. 
You can bring your young lady companion with you, 
and can be back Monday morning. This letter is 
written by one who knows of your anxiety to find him. 
You can place implicit confidence in its contents. I 
will recognize you at the depot.” 

“Well, you propose to send that?” 

“Yes, and that will bring the girls.” 

“Without a signature?” 

“I dare not sign another’s signature. And should I 
sign my own, it might not have the desired effect.” 

“If they come to the depot, what then?” 

“If we can get them aboard the cars and off for Mil- 
aukee, we will have a fair chance to lay siege to their 
hearts, before they get back again." 

“But will they be fools enough to take the train 
when they find out that you are the party who wrote 
the letter?” 

“Easy, Hal. I will work that part of the scheme. 
Now for a hackman.” 

The two worthies, after having finished their sup¬ 
per, proceeded to a hack stand near the corner of 
Clark and Adams Streets. 

After passing along at the rear of some half dozen 
hacks, Jake evidently spied the man for whom he was 
in search. 

“Hey, Driscoll!” 


A WELL LAID PLOT 


295 


“Yes, sir! Yes, sir! Hack, gentlemen? Have a 
hack?” 

“Step this way, Driscoll,” said Jake. 

“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr. Solomon?” 

“Yes, Driscoll, it’s me I suppose you would like 
to make a five?” 

“Right you are, Mr. Solomon.” 

“Well, I’ve got a job for you. But remember, mum 
is the word. ” 

“Oh, you’ve paid me for too many jobs for me to 
squeal. I’m bound there’s crinoline in it.” 

“Yes, Driscoll, there’s crinoline in it. If you work 
it right. ” 

“You just tell me what you want, andPll work it if 
there’s any work to it.” 

“You see this card, Driscoll?” 

“To be sure. ’ 

“Well, on it is the number on Laflin Street at which 
the letter I hold in my hand is to be delivered " 

“That’s easy.” 

“Listen. Before you deliver the letter, you must 
drive up to the house on Center Avenue, known as 
Colony Hall, and there inquire for Miss Pearl Lin- 
wood. You will be told the young woman no longer 
rooms there. See?” 

“Yes, but why inquire there?” 

“I am coming to that. You see, the party who the 
young lady will suppose is sending this letter is not 
supposed to know where she rooms. When you are 
informed at Colony Hall that she no longer rooms 
there, you will say: ‘I have a letter for her, and must 
deliver it, as it is urgent.’” 

‘I see.” 

'Well, if on the strength of what you have said you 


296 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


are not given the Laflin Street number, you will say:‘I 
believe it is something about the young lady’s brother.’ 
Then you will be given the number on the card you 
have. Ask the party who gives it to you to place the 
number and street on the top of die envelope, over 
the young lady’s name, and then deliver to the num¬ 
ber. Ring the upper bell at the side, and the young 
lady or her companion will come to the door.” 

“What then?" 

“Ask if you are talking to Miss Pearl Linwood, and 
if not, state that you wish to see her as you have a 
letter for her. When you have the young lady before 
you, hand her the letter. Be sure and tell her that 
you drove first to the Center Avenue address, and that 
you were directed to the Laflin Street number. If the 
young lady asks who gave you the letter, tell her a 
gentleman at one of the hotels, who said it was very 
urgent, as he was going to Milwaukee on the 9:15 
train, and said : ‘Perhaps you may have passengers 
to bring to the North Western.’” 

“Just so.” 

“If you are asked about the gentleman’s appearance, 
say he was a youngish looking man with no beard, 
and came from the country. Of course you don’t know 
his name. Ask if his name ain’t signed to the letter. 
And, if the young lady says no, tell her the gentle¬ 
man seemed terribly hurried and excited and that he 
probably forgot to sign his name. Say also, that there 
was an old man with him. That wiil ring her. Tell 
her the gentleman willbe at the North Western by the 
time they get there." 

"Yes.” 

“Then say that their fare has been paid to the de¬ 
pot, and that if they wish to catch the 9:15 train, 


A WELL LAID PLOT 


297 


they must hurry up. The two girls will probably come 
to the depot with you Don’t get them there till 
close on time tor the train to start.” 

"I'm your man.” 

"If you bring them both on time, there*s a five ex¬ 
tra for you.” 

“The bill’s mine.’’ 

The jehu jumped upon his box and the hack whirled 
away, while Jake and his companion walked away in 
the direction of the North Western depot. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A TIMELY ARRIVAL 

It was eight o’clock when Driscol I drove up in front 
of Colony Hall. To his ring at the bell Aunt Joan re¬ 
sponded 

Driscoll held the envelope in his hand and inquired 
for Miss Pearl Einwood. 

“The young lady no longer rooms here,” said Joan. 

“I have a letter for her,” said Driscoll, “and it is 
very important.” 

“You can leave it if you choose,” said Joan. 

“Can’t do it, madam. It’s something about the 
young lady’s brother, and she may want to answer it 
at once. ” 

"About her brother? That’s different. I’ll give you 
her number.” 

“Please, madam,” said Driscoll, “set it down on the 
envelope I might forget it.” 

Joan took the envelope from the liackman’s hands, 
and returned into the house, but presently returned 
and handed it to him. 

“Miss Pearl’s address is on the envelope, now." 

“Thank you. Good evening.” 

In ten minutes more Driscoll drew up in front of 
the number on Laflin Street, and rang the bell. 

It was Pearl herself who opened the door to his 
summons. 

"Is Miss Linwood in?” asked the hackman. 

298 


A TIMELY ARRIVAL 


299 


“That is my name,” responded Pearl. 

I have a letter for you," said the hackman, “and 
have been to the Center Avenue address with it. From 
there I was directed here. I judge you had best read 
it at once, as I think it is urgent. 1 will wait until 
you have done so.” 

Pearl, wondering what a letter coming to her through 
a hackman could mean, hastened upstairs where she 
speedily tore open the envelope and read Jake’s letter. 

Her face paled to the very lips. 

“My brother! my brother!” 

What is it, Pearl, what is it?” exclaimed Maggie. 

“Read it, Maggie. What does it mean?" 

“Why, there is no name.” 

"No? That seems very strange. And the hack- 
man has been to Colony Hall. See, this is May’s 
writing on the envelope. I know not what to do? 
How can we meet the writer at the depot when we 
know not who it is?” 

“It can’t be Mr. Solomon?” 

“No, he never would have sent the hackman to Col¬ 
ony Hall. It must be some one who will recognize 
me. My brother in an insane asylum. Oh, how much 
better than to have found him dead, for there is hope. 
He may regain his reason Come down with me, 
Maggie. We will question the hackman.” 

The two girls descended the stairs where Driscoll, of 
course, answered all questions in accordance with Jake’s 
instructions. With a result that after fifteen minutes 
preparation the girls informed the widow Gray of 
where they were going, and bade her tell May, if she 
called the next day, and they had not returned, that 
they had gone to Milwaukee on information they had 
received in regard to Pearl’s brother. 


300 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


It wanted but five minutes to train time when the 
hack reached the North Western depot. 

Driscoll dismounted, opened the door, and they 
passed into the depot. 

They hurried through the ticket office. No one ap¬ 
proached them. 

Why, it lacks but two minutes to train time,” ex¬ 
claimed Pearl. "Let us go down to the platform from 
where the trains depart. 

"We may be looked for there.” 

The girls descended the stairs to the waiting-room 
below. 

No one approached them. 

"How very strange,” said Pearl. "Could anyone 
have had an object in deceiving us? Let us go out 
to the gates. ” 

They passed out under the vast shed in the rear of 
the depot. 

There stood the Milwaukee train, and the people 
were rapidly pouring through the gate. 

"All aboard for Racine and Milwaukee!” sang out 
the depot crier. 

"Maggie, we have been cruelly deceived.” 

"But, the object, Pearl?” 

"Ah, Miss Pearl, we were looking for you.” 

"Mr. Solomon! Is it possible that you are so de¬ 
void of manhood as to have perpetrated such a decep¬ 
tion to draw us from home?” and Pearl clutched Mag¬ 
gie by the arm, and the two girls turned away. 

"Wait, Miss Linwood,” said Jake, "or you will ever 
regret it. You are unjust. After you left the store 
this evening a gentleman called who inquired for you. 
I gave him the Colony Hall address, thinking he 
might find you. He informed me that he would not 


A TIMELY ARRIVAL 


301 


have time to go for you, but said he would write you 
and send a hack to bring you to the depot. Your 
brother, the gentleman stated, is in an asylum in the 
suburbs of Milwaukee, where he has been for nearly 
two years. He is rapidly recovering, and they are 
about to send him home. Your presence with him on 
the trip from Milwaukee, it was thought, might prove 
of great value. I volunteered to go so as to return at 
the same time in case he was unmanageable. You 
might need help. I volunteered to show you aboard 
the train where the party who sent you the letter is 
undoubtedly waiting for us. I did not care to under¬ 
take the management of an insane man alone, and 
brought my friend along. Can you never forget our 
escapade or that unfortunate occurrence? But there is 
no time to lose, if you would aid in restoring your un¬ 
fortunate brother. You must come at once. See. 
There is the headlight of an incoming train. When 
it pulls into the depot the Milwaukee train pulls out. 
If you don’t care to go, I don’t know why I should 
interest myself. I sought to cause you to forget the 
past. I wish to aid you.” 

“And I, Miss Pearl,” said the oily Hal. 

“If we knew we could trust you.” 

“As you will. There is not another moment to lose. 
Think of your brother, Miss Pearl. What object 
could I have to deceive you? There, the whistle 
blows its warning.” 

“My poor, poor brother. Maggie, we must go. But 
the tickets?" 

“I have already procured tickets, Miss Pearl. Come. 
Hasten. ” 

“I do not desire you to pay for our tickets.” 

“No time to lose, now. You can repay us when 

you return." 


302 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


They passed through the gate to where the train 
was standing. 

The incoming train was now pulling into the depots 

“Walk a little more rapidly, Miss Pearl, or we shall 
be too late,” and Jake took hold of her arm to better 
urge her forward. Meanwhile Hal Pointer was on 
the other side of Maggie, urging her on. 

“All aboard! All aboard!” 

Now the party was opposite the rear end of the 
third car. 

“This car, Miss Pearl. Quick! Quick!” and Jack 
strove to raise Pearl to the platform. 

He had seized hold of both of her arms and one 
of her feet was on the lower step of the car when she 
turned her head and caught sight of the evil gleam in 
his eyes. 

“It is a warning in time,” she thought. 

“Unhand me, sir," she said. “I see treachery in 
your eyes,” and she withdrew her foot from the step. 

The passengers from the train that had just come 
in were hurrying by, but unmindful of them Jake, who 
was urged on by his passion, exclaimed : 

“Miss Linwood, is it possible that you are so 
heartless as to wish to leave your insane brother in 
an asylum at Milwaukee? And it but ninety miles 
away? When his return home and to sanity lies in 
your hands? We want no such heartless girls in our 
employ. But you shall go. Your brother shall be 
saved.” And again he seized her arms and almost 
lifted her upon the platform. 

“Not saved by you, you cur!” and the hand of a 
strong man seized Jake by the collar and with a pow 
erful swing hurled him half way across the platform, 
where he landed on his back. 



Girl from Macoupin, p, 303. 






































































































A TIMELY ARRIVAL 


305 


Pearl! My sister! I am well arrived,” and Harry 
Linwood caught his sister in his arms. 

“Harry? My brother? And not insane?” 

"No, Pearl, unless it be with joy. The villain 
lied. I heard him. But how came you here?” 

“Oh, Harry! my brother that was lost is found. 
For two years I have been in Chicago, clerking in 
a department store and searching for you.” 

Hugh McCullam had been surprised at Harry’s sud¬ 
den action, but when he heard his exclamation “Pearl, 
my sister,” and saw Jake fall upon his back, he stood 
over him with glowering countenance. 

Hal Pointer saw the situation at once. He also saw 
that the attention of many people was directed to 
them, and he leaped on the platform of a car crying 
out, as he leaped : “Don’t get left, Jake. Quick! 
Quick!” 

Jake staggered to his feet, picked up his crushed 
hat, and made a rush for the car. 

“Are you injured, Pearl? Shall I let the villain 
go?” 

“Let him go, brother. He is beneath even your 
contempt, though he is the son of one of my employ¬ 
ers. ” 

“Go! you designing hound! and thank your stars 
that Harry Linwood is not insane. If he were he might 
choke the life out of you.” 

Jake} 7 , bruised and sore as he was, jumped on the 
platform of a moving car as the train pulled out of 
the depot, and the two villains who had plotted for 
the ruin of two shop girls, were on their way to Mil¬ 
waukee, while their intended victims remained behind. 

Maggie, during this time, had stood with blanched 
face, watching the proceedings, but as she saw the 

The Girl from Macoupin 20 


306 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


train departing, and realizing what they had es¬ 
caped, and that Pearl had found her brother, she ex¬ 
claimed: “Oh, Pearl, Pearl! I am so glad.” 

“Come, dear Maggie, this is my lost brother, Harry. 
Harry, my sister, Maggie McCullam who, with me 
has been searching for you.” 

“Maggie McCullam? I—Maggie! Maggie! Is it 
possible? Yes! yes! I see it now. Maggie, my child, 
come to your father’s arms. At last he is Hugh Mc¬ 
Cullam again.” 

“My father! my father!” and Maggie was clasped 
to her fathers’ breast. 

“Oh, Pearl. We have found them both.” 

Four happy people left the depot and procured a 
carriage in which they rode to the Widow Gray’s on 
Laflin Street. 

Just as they rode up Arthur Gray and May were 
coming out of the cottage. 

May had been over to ascertain what information 
Pearl had received in regard to her brother, and Arthur 
was going home with her. 

Of course the coming of the carriage delayed them, 
and a happy hour was spent by the party before Arthur 
and May departed for Colony Hall. 

It was a late hour, and after Harry had learned all 
in regard to the situation at home, in fact after ex¬ 
periences and explanations had been made all around, 
that Harry and Hugh McCullam sought a hotel, and 
then with an understanding that the girls should meet 
them at the Illinois Central depot at seven o’clock in 
the morning, where they would take a train for Ma¬ 
coupin. 


CHAPTER XXX 


ALL ROADS LEAD TO LINWOOD 

Notwithstanding Pearl and Maggie lay awake nearly 
all night, they were early astir in the morning. Ar¬ 
thur Gray found them an express wagon. They bade 
good-bye to himself and mother and passed Colony 
Hall, where they bade farewell to their old compan¬ 
ions. 

Many were the congratulations they received there, 
on their good fortune in finding two loved ones so un¬ 
expectedly, and over their narrow escape of the night 
before. 

Little May cried for joy, and Aunt Joan promised 
to let her come and visit them when Pearl should send 
for her. 

“And we should be glad to have you come too, Aunt 
Joan. ’’ 

“Thank you, Pearl. I shall hardly get far from 
Colony Hall. But I am thankful you will be away 
from the trials of a department store. These depart¬ 
ment stores have been the ruin of too many young 
girls. Only those who have tried the life know any 
thing about it, but shall I never see you again?” 

“Oh, yes. We shall visit Chicago, and will not 
forget you. ” 

At seven o’clock with Harry and Hugh McCullam, 
the two girls entered an Illinois Central coach and 
the train sped away, bearing back to Macoupin two 

307 


3°8 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


employes who had suddenly quit the service of Sol¬ 
omon, Goudy & Co., and the young man who, two 
years before, had misinterpreted the howling of the 
dog. 

It was 11:30 when they left the train at Palmyra. 
The first man they met on the platform was Squire 
Ross. 

“Why, Pearl, is this you? And—no—yes—hanged 
if it ain’t Harry. Pm glad to see you, Harry. How 
stout you have grown. Alive after all, but you have 
come at a sorry time. To-day at twelve o’clock your 
father’s farm will be sold under execution. The offi¬ 
cers have already gone out, and Joel Bland drove off 
in that direction like a wild man not ten minutes 
ago.” 

“Sold under execution! and at twelve o’clock to¬ 
day? Can we make it in that time? Wait here, Hugh. 
Wait, Pearl,” and Harry rushed over to a livery 
stable. 

A team was standing on the floor, hitched to a car¬ 
riage. 

“Can I get this team? I must have it to drive to 
Linwood." 

"What? Harry? Is it possible, and alive?” 

“Yes, it’s me, Mr. Drake. But I must have the team 
and at once. My father’s farm is about to go under 
the hammer. Name your price, but do not deny me 
the team. I must save my father this blow.” 

“Take it, Harry, and welcome. Here, Joe, drive 
this young man and his party to Linwood. Lose no 
time. You have but a half hour to make it. God 
bless you, boy, if you save the old man’s home.” 

Harry leaped in the carriage as the driver jumped 
on the box, and they were away. They halted but a 


ALL ROADS LEAD TO LINWOOD 


309 


moment, when Hugh and the girls entered the vehicle, 
and were off again. 

"Driver!” sang out Harry, “there is much at stake. 
Here is five dollars if you reach Liriwood before that 
sale takes place. ” 

“Its’ mine!” exclaimed the driver, and the whip de¬ 
scended. 

The road was good and the team sped over it like 
the wind. 

“Oh, Harry, will we reach home in time?” 

"I think so, Pearl, for the driver is evidently work¬ 
ing for the bill I offered him." 

“We are making railroad time,” said Hugh Mc- 
Cullam. 

Harry held his watch in his hand. He was closely 
watching, as the minutes passed by. 

“There is the school house,” cried Maggie. 

“Yes, we are half way there and have got eight min¬ 
utes to make the mile and a half. Driver, speed your 
horses! There’s ten dollars at the other end if you 
get there before the old home goes!” 

On—on—on—sped the gallant bays. 

Another scene was being enacted at Linwood. 

Early that morning the farmer was astir. He had 
been unable to meet his mortgage, and now the day 
had arrived when his farm must go under the hammer 
to satisfy it. 

The execution had been issued. The levy made. 

That morning the farmer had milked his two remain¬ 
ing cows, and fed his stock with a sad heart, and when 
the old man and two broken-hearted women sat down 
to the breakfast-table, he remarked: 

“Mother, Jane, I am sorry for you both. God knows 
I am. Mebby I didn’t work hard enough, but some¬ 
how I couldn’t do more.” 


3io 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Yes, you did, husband. We’re gettin’ older an’ 
poorer together. We can’t die on our own farm, or in 
our own home.” 

“If Harry’d a lived,” said Aunt Jane, “this wouldn’t 
a happened.” 

“I’m glad, mother, Pearl’s away until after the sale’s 
over. ” 

"Yes, husband, it’s for the best. But oh, how my 
heart cries out for her. Yes and Maggie, too. Though 
she is the daughter of a stranger.” 

“And mine, wife, and mine. It breaks my heart to 

think that my daughter must return and find us ten¬ 

ants at Linwood, and then, Joel may want younger 
people, who can do more work. ” 

“If Mark could help us,” said Jane, "how quick he 
would. ” 

“Yes, but the time comes wrong for Mark. He 

don’t get his license to practice till next month, and 

then it’ll take time for him to build up a practice. 
But he’ll do it.” 

"Oh, yes, Mark’ll do it,” said Aunt Jane. “He’d 
master law, the gospel, and physic, fer Pearl.” 

“He loves her," observed Eben, 'but when they’re 
married, I expect Joel’ll turn his back on him.” 

“What the boy should have done," said Jane, “is 
to have told his uncle that Pearl would be his wife, 
and that he didn’t want your farm sold.” 

“Little good ’twould a done, Jane. The boy can do 
nothing till he gets his papers to practice, and his un¬ 
cle would have laughed at him.” 

“Well, God’s will be done,” exclaimed Sarah. 

“We can do nothing, wife, as I see, but wait for the 
hours to drag by, until twelve o’clock, when the sale 
comes off." 


ALL ROADS LEAD TO LINWOOD 3 H 

When Joel Bland and his nephew were eating break¬ 
fast that morning the nephew remarked: 

"Uncle, for a long time I have had something on 
my mind, that I have desired to speak to you about. 
I should have done so before. I can defer it no longer. 
You have done much for me and I appreciate it, but 
I must tell you that I’m engaged to be married.'' 

"What?” exclaimed Joel, jumping to his feet, "after 
all my warnin’? Who to? Who to? Linwood’s 
daughter? It can’t be her. And she’s been gone two 
years. You wouldn’t marry the daughter of a bank¬ 
rupt old farmer? a penniless girl, and woman clerk?” 

"Uncle, Pearl will be my wife. She is a noble, self- 
sacrificing girl and has many of the traits of my mother. 
Were mother alive I know she would approve my 
choice. ” 

"You do, do you? Well, boy, you can’t work on 
me, that way. I warned you agin women and preach¬ 
ers, an’ particular agin Linwood’s gal. If I’d knowed 
all this, do you ’spose I’d a spent a dollar on you? 
Not a shilling. Not a copper. The day you marry 
I’m done with you forever. Oh, I see. You kept 
mum until you’d about got through your law learnin’ 
and your sheepskin was in sight. But I’ll disown 
ycu. I’ll have none of you.” 

"You’re at liberty to pursue your own course. I 
have worked very faithfully for you since I have been 
here, and tried to repay you for your kindness, but as 
I said before, Pearl will be my wife. Will you not 
have the sale of Eben Linwood’s farm deferred? Will 
you not give him more time? I will help him pay that 
mortgage. I will assume it.” 

"What, boy, defer that sale? Let that farm slip 
through my hands? Never! You assume the mort- 


312 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


gage? You help pay it? What a fool I’ve been trying 
to make a lawyer of you. You’ll assume nothing. The 
sale comes off to-day. What I want of you is to go 
over and bid it in for Joel Bland. Buy it in as cheap 
as you can, for the difference between the price and 
the mortgage, I’ll have to pay cash. Will you do this 
for me?” 

“Yes, uncle, if you will not listen to me." 

"Listen to you? Bosh. My money’s my own. I’m 
going to the court-house to see what time the sher¬ 
iff’s going over. I would go myself but I feel my rheu- 
matiz this morning, and it might lay me up if I did.” 

So saying Joel passed out of the door. 

Mark’s last hope of aiding the father of the girl he 
loved had fled. He sat down and wrote a letter, 
which he addressed to his uncle and left it on the desk. 
Then went to the barn, hitched his horse to the bug¬ 
gy, and drove toward Linwood. 

Joel Bland, from the postoffice door watched his 
nephew till he disappeared from view. Then mut¬ 
tering: "Marry Linwood’s daughter, will you? Have 
the sale deferred I’m d—d if you do, ” he walked over 
to the court-house, where he was detained until after 
eleven o’clock. 

When he went back to his house it was some time 
before he chanced to look on the office desk. When 
he did so he found the letter Mark had left. 

"What can this be?” he thought. “Why, signed by 
Mark?” 

He proceeded to read it: 

“Dear Uncle:—I go to do my last service for you. 

I can no longer honorably remain with you. You 
know that I love Pearl Linwood, and will make her 
my wife. I can never give her up. If I did, I would 


ALL ROADS LEAD TO LINWOOD 


313 


be an unworthy son of a once loving mother. Again 
I thank you for all your kindness to me. I had 
hoped, in your old age, you would find a home and 
comforts with me, but as I shall marry Pearl, this, I 
suppose, is not to be. I shall not return to Palmyra. 
I will bid in Eben Linwood’s farm for you, and drive 
on to Carlinville, where I will take a train for Chi¬ 
cago, pass my examination, and enter on the practice 
of law. I shall labor hard to purchase back Eben Lin¬ 
wood’s farm. If you are ever sick or need your last 
relative, write for me and I will come, but I beg you 
believe me, I do not covet your wealth. Do with it 
as though I did not exist. I can carve out a waj' for 
the girl I love, and that I can, is largely due to your 
help. Please send my books by express. I will write 
you from Chicago. The horse and buggy I will send 
back from Carlinville. Do not work too hard, or ex¬ 
pose yourself too much to inclement weather. Remem¬ 
ber you are no longer young. I cannot write how I 
dislike to leave you, but Uncle, I cannot give up 
Pearl. My mother’s engagement ring is now on her 

finger. If you but knew her for what she is. I can 

write no more. With a full heart, I am my uncle, 
your nephew, Mark. " 

The old man’s hands were trembling and his face 
was white when he finished reading the letter. 

He turned out a half glass of brandy at the side¬ 
board and drank it down. 

“My last remaining relative. The boy tells the 

truth. I’m getting old, he says. Yes, so I am. His 

mother’s ring on the finger of Linwood’s girl. Her 
ways are like his mother’s. I never thought of that. 
But on my soul, I believe they are. That accounts 
for the boy’s loving her. She’s like Fannie. Her last 
request was that I look after her boy. 

“Joel Bland, you’ve been a cussed fool! How could 
the boy help love Linwood’s daughter? when she has 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


3 H 

ways like Fannie? He’s a smart boy and a good boy. 
There ain’t a lazy bone in him. He’s a credit to me. 
How much better Fve got on since he came. How 
much neater the house, than before. Humph, I sup¬ 
pose a woman would make it neater yet. How lone¬ 
some it used to be sitting here until he came. How 
cheerful since. He don’t want my wealth. He’s no 
sponge. No fortune-hunter, and he can’t give up 
Pearl. The boy says he hates to leave me, but he 
must marry Pearl. ” 

Tears were now running down the old man’s cheeks. 

“Oh, God! I have been wrong. There’s no other 
living being would have written those words. Don’t 
want my wealth. Don’t covet it. Who is to have it? 
The thankless public? No, no, Mark, my boy. You 
shall have both Joel Bland’s wealth and Pearl Lin- 
wood’s hand. In your home there will be a corner 
for Uncle Joel. Let’s see. Let’s see. There’s not 
a moment to lose. 

“The mortgage! Here it is. I’ll mark it paid!” 

With trembling hand, Joel wrote the words: “Sat¬ 
isfaction in full received on this mortgage Dec. 4th, 
1889. Joel Bland.” 

“Now for Linwood. Can I make it before the sale? 
I must, or kill one of Perry’s horses." 

He jumped from his seat at the desk. 

“Gods! I forgot all about my rheumatism.” 

The old man rushed across the street. 

“A horse and buggy Perry. Quick! I must drive 
to Linwood.” 

In five minutes he was driving as he never did be¬ 
fore, in that direction. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 

It was ten o’clock when Mark dismounted from his 
buggy and entered the house of the farmer. 

"Good morning, Mark.” 

‘‘Good morning to you all. Mr. Linwood, I tried 
the last resort. I told my uncle that Pearl would be 
my wife. He would not defer the sale one day. I 
have left his roof forever. I shall bid in the farm in 
his name and from here go to Carlinville and take a 
train for Chicago. Do not worry more than you can 
help. I shall engage in the practice of law, there* and 
earn the money to purchase Linwood back. I can 
take no rest until I do.” 

"Never go to Chicago, boy. Think what Harry’s 
going cost us.” 

“It will not be so in my case.” 

"I don’t like the idee,” said Aunt Jane. "I was in 
hopes Joel would soften if you told him that. He 
must have a heart of adamant.” 

"Well, it cant be helped, Mark,” said Eben. "You 
did all you could. ” 

At half after eleven people who desired to attend 
the sale began to gather. There were fully twenty 
farmers present, and a number from town, but Eben 
sat moodily in the house. 

The sheriff drove up at ten minutes to twelve. He 
entered the house and found the two women in tears, 

315 


316 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


and Eben, pale, dejected and heart-broken, assisted 
by Mark, trying to console them. 

"I’m mighty sorry, Linwood, but I can’t help you. 
The farm must go. But one man could stop the sale 
and he won’t.” 

"I know it, sheriff. I can’t blame you.” 

“If only Harry had lived,” exclaimed Aunt Jane. 

“Well,’’said the sheriff, “it’s five minutes to twelve. 

I must sell at twelve sharp, according to law.” 

"Well, I believe I’ll go to the barn and feed up,” 
observed Eben. "I dont’ want to be at the sale any¬ 
way. ” 

He bent over and kissed the wrinkled face of his 
wife. For a momenet her arms were around his neck 

"Come,” said Jane. "We must bear up. It won’t 
take all the money the farm brings to pay that mort¬ 
gage. You’ll have a good sum left, Eben, to buy a 
smaller farm with.” 

"It won’t be Linwood,” said Eben. "Good-bye, 
Jane.” 

"Good-bye? Why do you say that?” 

"Oh, I’m goin’ to the barn to feed up. And when I 
return I shall not be the owner of Linwood,” and the 
farmer passed out of the door. 

“That was mighty queer of Eben,” remarked Jane. 

"There, its’ twelve o’clock, ” said Mark. "The sheriff 
is standing up in his buggy. The sale is about to take 
place. I must go out and bid the farm in. The more 
it brings the better. I hope there will be other bidders 
here. I will come in after the sale is over.” 

Mark passed out and closed the door. 

The sheriff was standing up in his buggy. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, "it is twelve o’clock accord¬ 
ing to my time, and I offer for sale under an execu- 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 


317 


tion to satisfy a mortgage Eben Linwood’s farm 
of one hundred and sixty acres. You all know Lin- 
wood. I hate to sell the old man out, but I can’t help 
it. Now, what am I offered for the place? It ought 
to bring a good figure. ” 

“What’s that?” exclaimed a man standing on a wag¬ 
on. “A runaway?” 

“Looks like it," said another. 

“No ’tain’t!” exclaimed the sheriff. “I can see the 
whip falling on the horse’s back from here. Some 
one to attend the sale, I guess and he must want to 
buy Linwood, the way he’s driving. Well, who make 
the first bid?” 

“Sheriff,” said Elder Sneed, who was one of the on¬ 
lookers, “that man is waving his hat. What can he 
mean?” 

“Oh, he wants a chance to bid. Who makes the 
first offer?” 

The horse and buggy were close by. The horse 
coming on at a dead run, and the whip still falling. 

“I see,” said the sheriff, “that you won’t bid till the 
new arrival gets here. Well, he’s here now. Thunder! 
It’s Joel Bland.” 

“My uncle? No!” 

A foaming steed was pulled up in front of the house 
and Joel Bland, looking almost wild, with his hat in 
his hand, and his gray hair flying in the breeze, de¬ 
scended from his buggy. 

Mark started toward him wondering at his wild ap¬ 
pearance, and what could have brought him. 

The sheriff supposed he had merely decided to at¬ 
tend the sale at the last moment, and do his own bid¬ 
ding. 

“How much for Linwood? Give me a bid!” 


318 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


"Thank God! I’m in time. Stop the sale, sheriff. 
The mortgage is satisfied.” 

"Mortgage satisfied,” ejaculated the sheriff. 

"Yes. It’s paid. Dismiss your audience. Lin- 
wood’s farm’s his own. My nephew, Mark, marries 
Eben’s daughter, Pearl. That mortgage is my present 
to the bride. ” 

The sheriff and his auditors were struck dumb. 

Mark was glued to the tracks in which he stood. 

"Where’s Eben?” asked Joel. 

"I noticed him going toward the barn a few minutes 
ago,” responded a farmer. 

"Three cheers for Joel Bland !” cried Elder Sneed. 

They were given with a will. 

"Where’s Linwood’s wife?” 

“Uncle Joel, God bless you, I didn’t look for that,” 
and Mark had his uncle by the hand. 

His face was now whiter than Joel’s, and there were 
tears in his eyes. 

"Come in the house, uncle. Sarah and Jane are 
there.” 

They passed in at the door 

"Mrs. Linwood," said Joel, "here’s the mortgage I 
held. I’ve marked it paid. Satisfied in full. The 
amount of it is my present to the bride that Mark’ll 
lead to the altar. Pearl Linwood. There’ll be no 
sale. You and Eben still own the farm. I hope you’ll 
forgive me for bein’ so hard. I see things in a differ¬ 
ent light now. ” 

"God bless you, Joel!" exclaimed the two women. 

"Joel, what’s come over you?" exclaimed Jane, as 
she seized his hand. 

"A streak of humanity, I guess, Jane. And then 
you know, I couldn’t be too hard on the father and 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 


319 


mother of my nephew’s wife. So I marked the mort¬ 
gage paid, as I said before it’s my present to my 
nephew’s bride. ” 

There had been so much commotion that no one had 
observed a carriage halt in front of the door, but at 
this moment it flew open and four people hurriedly 
entered. 

“Pearl! Pearl!” “Yes, mother dear, it’s I. Never 
mind if the farm is sold. Here is one that will buy it 
back again. ” 

“Mother! Aunt Jane!” “Harry! Harry! Alive and 
home. ” 

The young man was nearly smothered by the caresses 
of the two women. 

"But my father?” exclaimed Harry. “His farm, I 
suppose, is sold. But—” 

“No, no, Plarry. The mortgage was returned paid, 
by Joel Bland. It is his present to his nephew’s 
bride. ” 

“His nephew’s bride?" 

“Why, yes. Your sister Pearl ” 

“Ah, sister, you did not tell me that.” 

“Forgive me, brother." 

“Certainly. And Mark, my friend, you are worthy 
of her. See, she has told me all else. Mr. Bland, 
let me shake you by the hand, and thank you with 
my sister. My present to the bride and groom, shall 
be a check of ten thousand dollars.” 

“Ten thousand dollars!" exclaimed Aunt Jane, 
“Mark, Mark.” 

“Yes, Aunt Jane, I’ve money by the barrel, almost. 
But my father?” 

' He went to the barn, Harry, just before the sale 
was to come off." 


3 2 ° 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Maggie introduce your father. I must hasten to 
the barn," and Harry hurriedly departed in that di¬ 
rection. 

He opened the front door softly and glanced in. 

What he saw was his father in his shirt sleeves, 
standing on the head of a barrel, adjusting one end 
of a rope to a beam, over his head. 

There was a slip noose formed in the other end. 

The old man’s coat and hat lay on the barn floor 
by the side of the barrel, and an envelope and another 
paper lay beside them. 

“There is no other way," were the words that fell 
from the farmer’s lips. “I am all broke up and can’t 
work much anyway. Sarah will collect the balance 
from the farm above the mortgage money, and then 
she’ll get the two thousand dollars on my life. It’s 
lucky I didn’t let that policy run out. Well, Eben 
Linwood, this is a sad death for you. You wouldn’t 
have dreamed it once. Poor Sary. Her an’ Jane will 
be mightily distracted, but it’s fer the best. The let- 
ter’ll tell them all about it. If I could but see Pearl’s 
face once more. She’ll soon be home and some day 
marry Mark and be happy. But my boy. My lost 
Harry. He meant all for the best. I’ll join you now, 
my son, and perhaps in the other world, we’ll be 
united." 

Eben seized hold of the noise and raised it toward 
his head. 

Harry had been standing pale and motionless, ap¬ 
palled at the sight. Now the spell that had held him 
bound was broken and he sprang forward. 

“United in this world, my father! In this world!" 

“Harry! Harry! My boy! my boy!" and the old 
man fell from the barrel into the outstretched arms 
of his son. 



Qirl from Macoupin, p. 321 



















































































































































































































THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 


323 


“Father! Father! Have you fainted?” 

“Nigh about, son. I’m that weak I can’t stand. 
Thank God you’re alive and come no later.” 

“Sit here, father,” and Harry assisted the old man 
to a bench near the door, where a little time revived 
him. 

“Father, what were you doing on that barrel? Why 
that rope tied to the rafter with the noose? Why in 
your shirt sleeves in December. What are those pa¬ 
pers lying on your coat?” 

"Yes, yes, son. I’m gettin’ stronger. Now, I can 
walk. But I’m afraid to trust myself on that barrel. 
Will you get the rope down? Get it down quick, boy, 
God bless you, and throw the barrel into the oat bin. 
There I’ve got the papers. I’ll put on my coat. I 
never thought to wear it again. This letter I’ll burn 
up. Never mind what’s in it. The other paper is 
my life insurance policy. I see, Harry, you guess 
what my idees was. Say nothin’ about it. It will 
only make more sorrow at the house. Let it rest as 
quietly as I would have hung at the end of that rope, 
in five minutes more. Harry, there wouldn’t a been 
a kick. You see Sary would have got the insurance 
money. You know we have lost Linwood.” 

“No, no, father. Joel Bland is at the house. He 
arrived before I did. He stopped the sale and re¬ 
leased the mortgage. It is his wedding present to 
Pearl, who will marry his nephew. We are happy at 
the house. We only need you. It is the dawning of 
a new day.” 

“Joel Bland released that mortgage? His present 
to Pearl? Is the world going to end, son?” 

“I guess not, father. But, Pearl, Maggie, and her 
father are at the house. No one could tell now, what 
you contemplated.” 


324 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Pearl and Maggie at the house?” 

“Yes, father. But can you forgive me for that 
night’s work?" 

“Forgive you, boy, you are my only son. There is 
nothing to forgive now I see you before me again. It 
was a mistake That’s all. Now all our sorrows are 
ended." 

“Father, for every dollar I carried away, I have a 
thousand. Yes, more. You shall have a dozen Lin- 
woods if you want them. Your days of work are over.” 

“You were right, then, Harry.” 

“I must have been, father, as it turned out so. But 
come. Later when we are all together, I will relate 
my experience.” 

Father and son returned to the house. It was no 
longer a house of sorrow. 

Hugh McCullam was found seated between Sarah 
and Aunt Jane, relating the circumstances of how he 
lost and found his daughter. Pearl was seated be¬ 
tween Mark and Uncle Joel, and the old man actually 
had hold of her hand. 

“I don’t doubt that I shall love you as a daughter. 
I know I shall, when you become Mark’s wife. But 
Pm mighty mean. Mighty close, and mighty mean.” 

“Oh, don’t say that, Uncle Joel,” said Pearl. "I 
can’t stand it. You have been very good to Mark and 
me. ” 

“No I haint, but I will be.” 

The door opened and Harry and his father entered. 

Eben’s eyes first fell on the form of Pearl seated 
between the uncle and nephew. 

“My dear old father!” and her arms were around 
his neck. 

“Pearl! My daughter! Thank God you are home 
again.” 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 


325 


"Yes, dear father, and never to leave, until—” 

“I understand, Puss. Until you are Mark’s wife.” 

"Which will be soon, Eben," exclaimed Joel, "if I 
I have my way. ” 

"Joel, give me your hand. You’ve done one act, 
I never expected. I only wanted more time. You’re 
entitled to your way, but we can pay the mortgage 
now. ” 

"Not a dime Not a dollar. My money’s my own. 
It’s my present to Pearl. God bless her.” 

"Maggie, come to your second father, child.” 

"Oh, Mr. Linwood. I am so happy now that I have 
two fathers.” 

"Father, Hugh McCullam.” 

The two men clasped hands. 

"I can never repay you, Mr. Linwood, for rescuing 
and caring for my child, unless I can do so with a 
father’s blessings.” 

"We have been well repaid,"said Eben. "We have 
two loving daughters. 1 ' 

"And one of them,” observed Pearl, "is more than 
satisfied with two years experience in a Chicago de¬ 
partment store.” 

"One year quite satisfies me,” said Maggie. 

"You accomplished your purpose, Pearl,” Aunt 
Jane said. "You brought Harry home with you. I 
always knew he’d come out all right. But somehow, 
lately, I began to weaken in faith. God bless the boy. 

"I can never forget you, Aunt Jane. I have a long 
story to tell.” 

“ Well, commence it after supper, Harry Now, 
some on you put up them horses, an’ give us a chance 
to get supper. Joel Bland can’t go back till he hears 
the tale. He’s done himself proud.” 


326 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Harry and Mark departed to care for the horses. 
As they passed out, Harry gave the driver of his car 
jriage the ten dollar bill, and he went on his way re¬ 
joicing. 

It was a happy throng that was seated around the 
table at six o’clock. Even Joel Bland was happy and 
good natured. 

After supper all adjourned to the parlor, and it was 
midnight before Harry and Hugh McCullam had con¬ 
cluded their experiences. 

Then, of course Pearl and Maggie were called on 
to render an account of the days that had intervened 
since they had first left Linwood. 

“Pearl,” said her father, “if Pd known what you 
was undergoin’ in Chicago, I wouldn’t a left you there 
three days." 

“I couldn’t come home, father, until I had found 
my brother. I never gave him up, and at the right 
moment we met.” 

“Well, I am happy now,” exclaimed Eben, “with 
both my children restored. Yes, and Maggie, my 
second daughter, and, Mark, who came so near being 
gone. Yes, and Joel Bland, who never was as bad as 
he was painted.” 

“Yes I was, Eben. I was worse. A heap worse." 

"No Joel,” said Aunt Jane. “There was a good streak 
in you, but it never came to the surface.” 

“Mark and Pearl brought it there, 1 ' observed the 
old man. “God bless them both. They’ll be my heirs 
when I’m gone." 

"We hope you will live to be with us many years, 
Uncle Joel,” said Pearl, as she threw her arms around 
the neck of the old man, who had always been deemed 
so hard, and kissed him. 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 


327 


"Fannie! Little Fannie!” said Joel, "I think it 
•was you,” and tears stood in his eyes. 

"Husband, I am happier than I ever expected to be 
again. ” 

"I am as happy as a bird,” said Pearl, “for I have 
all whom I love around me. ” 

"I," said Maggie, “with my dear father, and your 
brother restored, have nothing else to ask for.” 

"Did you wish me restored, Maggie?” 

“If you knew of the nights she has walked the 
streets of Chicago with me, brother, searching for 
you." 

“We were searching for a father and brother,” said 
Maggie. 

“Days of sorrow and pain are at an end,” remarked 
Hugh McCullam. “Tribulations and trials are over. 
Two tenderfeet have returned from the Black Hills, 
as wealthy as Croesus, and they have Halpin mine be 
hind them to draw on. We should all be happy.” 

“How can we help it, ” said Aunt Jane, “when every 
thing turns out just as it does in a novel?” 

"No,” observed Joel Bland. “To have it come out 
that way, Harry should wed Maggie McCullam.” 

Maggie hid her face on her father’s shoulder. 

Harry’s face reddened. “Perhaps, Mr. Bland, she 
would not have me,” he said. 

"A happier party than this can’t be found in the 
country," exclaimed the farmer. “We’ll leave the 
young folks to the future, and if you’ll draw a pitcher 
of cider, Jane, we’ll drink to this happy union, and 
all go to bed—No, Joel, you can’t go home to-night. 
You must all sleep for once beneath the roof—” 

“Of the man from Macoupin,” added Harry. 

“Who told you about that, Harry?” 


328 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


“Why, Pearl, father. I am proud of you.” 

“Well, let it go, then. The man from Macoupin. 
And to-morrow we’ll make preparations for the big¬ 
gest blowout Linwood has seen for many a day. We 
will kill—” 

“Not the prodigal son, father?" 

“Hardly, boy, when we’ve just got him back. But 
wait. Pll put your mother and Jane against the world 
for getting a big dinner.” 

An hour later silence reigned within the good farm 
er’s house. All our characters were in the land of 
dreams, and there we will leave them. 

It will not do, however, to leave our readers with¬ 
out informing them that early in the spring, I think 
it was the tenth of May, there were two weddings at 
Linwood, and half of the people in the county were 
there. 

Mark Ellis, the rising young lawyer, was united to 
the girl for whom he would have forsaken wealth, Pearl 
Linwood, and Uncle Joel was the second one to kiss 
the bride. 

“Look out for women and preachers, Uncle,” said 
his nephew. 

“That’s what I’m doin’, Mark ” and Joel kissed his 
nephew’s wife again. 

The young mine-owner, Harry Linwood, was the 
other bridegroom, and the bride was the lass, who, 
with his sister, had searched Chicago’s streets for 
him, many a dark night, Maggie McCullam, his part¬ 
ner’s daughter. Among the guests present were two 
from Chicago. May Carter and Arthur Gray, the 
young artist, and ere they returned little May had told 
her secret, There would be another marriage on the 
fifteenth of June, and Joan was satisfied. 


THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY 


329 


If all the girls who are toiling in sweat shops and 
department stores, had before them a prospect half as 
bright as that of the three girls who know so well 
how to sympathize with them, all would be happy. 
But not having that, if they could, by hook or crook, 
in this free land, receive such pay for their services 
as would enable them to exist, and place them be¬ 
yond the necessity of imperiling their souls as well as 
their bodies, in their hard, hard struggle for life, 
how much brighter would look all the world. 

If honorable women dressed in their silks and laces, 
kaew someting of the trials and temptations of some 
of the bright-eyed girls who may have waited on them 
—what then? 

If they knew of the interior of such dens as poverty 
flats, where thousands are struggling betwixt life and 
death—what then? 

Nothing much. 

They might think that as long as there was a society 
for the prevention of cruelty to animals, it were well 
to throw some slight mantel of protection over the 
brave girls who are struggling to keep body and soul 
together on from two and a half dollars to four dollars 
a week, and yet dress in a manner suitable for a sales¬ 
woman. 

Do their employers know that they cannot exist on 
the pay they receive? 

Ask Solomon, Goudy & Co. There are lots of them. 

Ask Jake and Hal Pointer. There are lots of them. 

Ask many of the poor girls who have been driven to 
shame. 

As to the sweat shops and the human ghouls that 
run them, that live and fatten on the woe and misery 
of thousands, where such cases as the Teemers and 


330 


THE GIRL FROM MACOUPIN 


Mrs. Carlton are ordinary ones—is there relief to be 
found ? 

Only when the State, itself, shall crush these vam¬ 
pires out. 


THE END. 



and Arranged by D. B. Dixoki, with amostsxhaTlIle 
ive Electrical Department by THOS. G. GRIER 
^ — —l a prominent specialist. 

A Book for . AQn 

Ail Professions’, 4uU 

Pages, 8% x5% 


A work of Reference 

Architects 

Architects Iron Workers 
Builders, Blacksmiths 
Bookkeepers 
Boiler Makers 
Contractors 
Civil Engineers 
Firemen 

Foremen of Machine Shops 
Hydraulic Engineers 
Locomotive Engineers 
Machinery Jobbers 
Machinists 
Machinery Salesmen 
Marine Engineers 
Master Car Bnilders 
Machine Shop Proprietors 
Master Mechanics of 
Railroads 
Mining Engineers 
Mechanical Engineers 
Pattern Makers 
Railway Supply Agents self. 
Railway Superintendents 
Roadmasters 
Stationary Engineers 
Superintendents of Fac¬ 
tories 

Students and Business 
Men Generally 



Live 

Agents W anted 
Everywhere. Sells Its- 
No Experience Needed! 


All Men 

Common 

Of High 

in the 

Arithmetic 

Value 

Electrical 

used all 

in the 

Business 

throuqh 

Family 

Need It 

the Book 

Circle 


“An inexhaustible instructor for shop and office .”—The &,winter. 

“The electric department, by a well known expert, is thorough and com¬ 
prehensive.’ ’—Electric Revie-o. 

“This volume is very wide in its range of usefulness. A practical dic¬ 
tionary of rules and facts and figures, as needful within its scope of infor¬ 
mation as Webster’s Dictionary in its scope.”—Industrial World. 

Other scientific journals speak in the same high praise. 

NEATLY AND SOLIDLY BOUND, PRICE $2.50. 

Complete copy, with confidential terms, mailed on 
receipt of price. Now is the grand opportunity to makb 
money rapidly. The book will sell at sight to all artisans and 
Vecha: M os. 


AI HO & Publishers, 263 Wabash Ave.. ChieagQ* 

(Adt. N) 















fh** nechanics’ 

Complete Library 

Modern Rules, Facts, Processes, ett 
"or the Engineer, Artisan, Electrician, e*r 

The Steam Engine and all its parts fully described, 
and the best methods of handling; How to set the Slide 
Valve; The Steam Engine Indicator fully and plainly 
described; How to take Diagrams; All about Locomo¬ 
tive Boilers; Rules for Safety Valve 0 : All about In¬ 
jectors; The Westinghouse Automatic Brake fully 
described; N^tes on Belting; Treatment of New 
Boilers; An exhaustive article on Cold Chisels, with 
engravings; Definitions and Useful Numbers; Gearing 
and Shafting fully explained; Useful Cements; Rules 
for the Fireman; The Care of Machinery; Smoke- 
Latent Heat—Spontaneous Combustion—Super-heated 
Steam—Triple Expansions—fully defined; Howto Make a Dynamo. A Book 
of the very highest value for apprentices as well as journeymen in all 
trades; Development of Electricity; Complete and accurate Tables for Cut¬ 
ting Standard Screw Threads; Notes on Pattern Making; Metal Working 
Dies and their uses. ( This is a most valuable treatise and is fully illus¬ 
trated .) Tables of Areas and Circumferences of Circles; Measures of all 
kinds; Strength of Materials, Tables of Safe Loads for columns of all kinds; 
Notes on Hot Water Systems; The Steel Square Simplified; Useful Recipes; 
Useful Shop Kinks; Articles of the greatest value to Tinsmiths and Metal 
Workers, fully illustrated; Points for Builders. 

We Guarantee that you cannot get the same amount of* 
Information In any other book or books for less than 
PRICES:—Bound in Turkey Morocco, embossed in gold, $1.50* Bound 
in flexible Silk Cloth, $1.00* 

LAIRD & LEE, Publishers, 263 Wabash Avenue, Chicago. 

Laird & Lee’s VEST-POCKET 

Webster Pronouncing 

Features are:- Dictionary 

1-Over 27,500 Words. 2-Placing of the 
Accents. 3- Pronunciation of all words. 4-0v#r 
4,000 Synonyms. 5 -Marks of Punctuation. 

6-Short speeches and Toasts for all occasions. 7- 
Rules of Etiquette. 8 -Forms of Notes , due bills, 
drafts, etc. 9-Rules of Capitalization. 10 -Latin 
Words or Sentences most usually met with. 11- 
Gazetteer of the World. 12 -MetiHc System. 13- 
Values of Foreign Coins. 1£-And last but not least, 

Parliamentary Rules for the organization and 
government of deliberative societies of all kinds. 

A golden harvest for live agents. Write for 
terms. In Make-up, Contents and Usefulness It 
Is without a peer. Published in two bindings. 

PJtlC'E:—Silk Cloth, 25c* Russia Leather, full 
gilt, SO©. Both editions indexed. 19G Pages. 

Regular size, by 2% inches. 

VA8RD & LE£. 2S3 Wabash Av. f Chicago. 

(Advo 0) 




AGENTS WANTED EVERY 
WUERE-JLIBERAL TERMS 






















Edison’s Handy 
Encyclopaedia 


III 


Of General Information, an( 
Universal Atlas 


CoiwriLED by Thos. F. Edison 

The ^ possession of a copy of Edison'.. 
Encyclopaedia will prevent mistakes, relieve the 
xnind, save labor, time and moneys and instantlT 
tell you everything' you want to know 
Business Forms, Legal Items, etc m 2,000 
subjects of value to every one L. all occupa 
tions. The volume has over Fifty full page 
colored Maps, and a full description of 
every country in the world. 


"Remember, this is a New Edition revised J EncTdooTdia^never Do 
thorougly and brought down to date. Itncyciopaedias^neverf)o 

WORTH ITS WEIGH S 1 GOLD | 5Q0,000 c 


■H'OriES J 
s SOLD ! 


Agents making big money. Sellsat sight. Prices: Bo"»d in elegant 
^•eenMlk Cloth, stiff covers, embossed in gold and ink, SOe.—Bound in 
Cloth, limp covers, 35c. Sample copies mailed to any address on receipt 
of j me. We guarantee perfect satisfaction. 

LAIRD & LEE, Publishers, 263 Wabash Avenue, Chicago. 


World’s Ready Reckoner 

and Rapid Calculator 


FOR THE YOUNG AND THE OLD' 

AN EVERY DAY NECESSITY 

Contains tables of values of the money of ah 
the countries of the world; the rules for 
practical mensuration; the value of all rare 
U. S. coins; interest tables; table showing 
the number of davs from any day in one 
month to the same day in any other month; 
tables of hoard by the day or week; complete 
wages for any amount by the hour, day, 
week, month or year; board, plank, timber, 
scantling, wood and stone measurement 
tables; rules for measurement of corn in the ear, brick, cas; s 
and barrels, grain; tables of weights and measures; useft 1 
recipes for everybody. 

Push the Sale of this Book and you need never be without 

PRICE:—Bound in Boards, half Cloth, 25c. 

Sells Rapidly. Sent on receipt of price. 

AiRD & LEE, Publishers, 263 Wabash Avenue. Chicago 

Udv E» 



THEWORLDS 

READY 

RAPID 
CALCULATER 



LAIRD 8. LEE 
. CHICftGU 



























TIE LIBRARY OF CHOICE FICTION 


*$- 


4 


i 


"NOTHING SUCCEEDS LIKE SUCCESS /" 


it is based upon excellence of make-up, as well as upon th 

GENUINE MERIT OF THE BOOKS. 

The growing and generous patronage 
of the JPublio 


IS EVIDENCE THAI LAIRD & LEE'S SERIES llITBEMflRKr 


To continue doing so, they have secured, 

IN ACCORDANCE WiTH THE NEW COPYRIGHT LAW 

A Number of MSS. by Famous Foreign Authors. 

Among those they issue first, fully illustrated by Parisian 
artists, the following exceptionally brilliant novels, translated by 
MAX MAURY: 

AURETTE’S HUSBAND. By HENRY GRIiVILLE. 

A YOUNG MAN OF THE PERIOD. By andr& theuriet. 
A STORY WITHOUT A MORAL. By hector malot 


In addition to these we are issuing in superb style 
MASTERPIECES OF FOREIGN FICTION 
printed m the original language in which they were written. 

IN FRENCH: “ Contes Choisis” [Select Tales], by that Prince 
of story-tellers, Guy de Maupassant. 

IN "® as (Sefieimntfi bcr alien UTamfell" [The Old 

Maid s Secret 1 , the immortal novel by E. Marlitt. 


voH?,? ader !u 0f good filature are advised to procure Laird & Lke s Publi. 

a f,t^ ey Pnntefi in large type on excellent paper, profusely illus. 
trated, and bound in solid and attractive covers. 

Sold by all newsdealers and upon all trains , or supplied 
by the publishers . 

LAIRD &.X.EE. Chicago 







The 
Library 
of . 
Choice 
Fiction 


THIS SERIES 

GROWS 

Mon th after Month 

IN 

DESERVED POPULARITY. 


The 
Library 
. of 
Choice 
Fiction 


WHY? . . . BECAUSE 

Contains Only Sterling Books, Beautifully 
Printed, Illustrated and Bound. 


The Flowers of the American 

JPaper-bouncl Book Trade. 

THE TEH GREHT FRENCH NIVELS 

Translated by Master Hands. 


1. CAMILLE and 

2. DUCHESS ANNETTE 

S. SAPPHO. 

4. A MAN OF HONOR 

5. MADAME BO VARY.. 

6. MAUPRAT. 

7. A LIFE’S DECEIT 

8. “ NOTRE C(EUR ” ... 

0. THE CHOUANS. 

10. PIERRE ET JEAN. .. 


...By Alexandre Dumas, fils 

..By Alphonse Daudet 

.By Octave Feuillet 

.By Gustave Flaubert 

.By George Sand 

...By the Brothers Goncourt 

.By Guy de Maupassant 

.By Honore de Balzac 

.By Guy de Maupassant 


For full Lists of our French Translations and of our HIGH 
CLASS COPYRIGHTED NOVELS by American Authors send 
for our complete catalogue. 

Readers of good literature are advised to procure Laird & Lee’s publica¬ 
tions, as they are printed in large type on excellent paper, profusely illustrated, 
and bound in solid and atiractive covers. 

Sold by all Newsdealers and upon all Trains, or supplied 
by the Publishers, 

L_A!F?D c£ CHICAGO, 

Adv. D. 














ARE YOU THINKING 

OF BUlbDING? 

You Can Save Honey 

BY SECURING A COPY OF 

HOW TO BUILD HOUSES 

JUST PUBLISHED 



CONTAINING-- 

FORTY PLANS — 

...OF... 

HOUSES, CHURCHES AND BARNS 

WITH COMPLETE SPECIFICATIONS 

THE CAREFUL WORK OF MASTER ARCHITECTS. 
THOROUGH, ACCURATE AND RELIABLE. 

These plans nave been especially designed for this work, and 
form a choice collection of new draughts for Artistic and 
Economical Houses for city, village or country. With this book 
in your possession you can build without the assistance of an 
architect, and thus save many dollars. 

THE PRICE IS ONLY 25 CENTS 

Sent Post Paid on Receipt of Price 

LAIRD & LEE = = = = = = Publishers 

263 and 265 Wabash Ave., Chicago 























- 






















•f 


1 












































































» 












































■> • . U * . 






















































’» 





































AGENTS! AGENTS!! 


THIS IS THE BOOK YOU WANT 


LAIRD 

& 

IeEE’S 

VEST POCKET 
WEBSTER 
PRONOUNCING 
DICTIONARY 

CONTAINS 

27,500 Words 
and 5,000 
Synonyms 
Latin Words 
often 
met with 
and is right 
UP TO DATE. 

DON'T BE 

DECEIVED 

No other Vest- 
Pocket Dictionary 
that has ever been 
published in the 
world contains 
more than one- 
half the amount 
of useful informa¬ 
tion that will be 
found in this one. 



IT CONTAINS 

Catch Words 
correctly 
spelled. 

Gazatteer of 
the World 
revised to 
latest census. 

Perpetual 

Calendar. 

Rules 
of Spelling. 

Use of Capitals 

Marks of 
Punctuation 
and howto 
use them. 

Rules of 
Etiquette. 

Parliamentary 

Rules. 

Values of 
Foreign Coins. 

Speeches 

and 

Toasts for 
Sundry 
Occasions. 


It is the only 
one containing a 
frontispiece of the 
Great Noah Web¬ 
ster m his study. 


Bound in Russia Leather, Full Gilt, Indexed; Silk Cloth; Red Edges, 


Indexed. WRITE FOR TERMS. 


feAIRD & L£§, Publishers, 263 ™ SH AYE &«« 


































> 


































V 











































♦ o 0 ‘ x* * y 

' , 0 ^ 
* o CT * ^ 

<r 1 

•'■y rt> / 

\ ^ ^ + 

0 N 



A v 




0 # A. 



>* * 

C^ > 

V - ^ ' / 

0 N c ^ ^ * 

* c^SNv <* ^> 

^v v* ^ ^ 

V- > ° (ft, 

^ VS£ 

\° °^. ' 

^ ' * 77 ^ n # 9o %'*,To v Ap 0 c ^, 

^ - ‘.v * c^ or jA>&f/h. r <* \X> * 

% v «= m|ya ° z ^ - 

c? ^ o 'W/N8^§ * ^ ^ - ^iEfe^ 7 * " z 

^V l,,< ^ /0 " X \^ A C° N c « \ //y 0 /,vi. « ^ 

^ <M?/r???^ \* **_ v’^ ° ^c^>v X. <* . O C) .v V _/X^ * ^ 

- t*- 


° ^ 
o 









A 





A 

* 

& 


'</> - 1 o .V 5 ^ o -[// (C 

•£\ 5 * V 3 <?■ o W * 

0 « w A O/ ** x s s ,0 x < y o « x ^ A 

X c o«c -P- ,0* v* 1 "* "^> X t*"‘» 

vJ^ * c^Ncn <* O C> %, V ^/rTT^ 1 *p jA * -SSWJ ^ 

A' k ^ v i^v’ ^ ^ «a\ x. 

^> \-o-Will x> ^ *>* v *** >«K \ i ( / yy''^-' _ , *r > < o _ 

« ° 0 * ||f]&^ A > 

w//H-r * o 5 *** * IfiS*• *° 

V . 0 /% ** m "*\)^\*"t * 9 N ° " V 0 " * 1*0 /\/ * ^‘1 * " 

' - r> -~ <0 . A ’ *- & * -O 

'-* A' " ' 


** V 


p°<« 





*+4& * 


<S> ,if 

c <> z 

"V 5 ^ o 

* o'V »> 

* * A ^6 v I 8 C 

c 0> % 

. x >, X 

o O' 



- «* 

A "o * / ~ v s X' < 

^ c "‘..v ,<^ v« l i:K 



•* X 


r ., 

c° N c * -*b ** . 0 ^ . 


/* c> 

* 

r ^ A' 

</> <^V » 

* : J %■ ^ % 

' '* ,. <A'»v^> „A 






































































































































